


Ouranophobia (Destiel AU)

by Deanasaurus



Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Angel!Castiel, Angels, Angst, Baking, Blowjobs, Bullying, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Dean is 19, Discrimintaion, Drinking, Enochian, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Heavy Plot, Human/Angel AU, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, John is longer in the picture, Lots of plot, M/M, Neglect, No Sex, No Smut, Recovery, Sam is 16, Scars, Slight Gay Panic, Star Gazing, Supernatural book series, Theres something about Jessica, Violence, Wing Grooming, Wings, abuse recovery, angel!cas - Freeform, cas is 18, cherry pie, descriptions of abuse, destiel au, drunk, for the now, human!dean, lots of fluff, mention of john in the past, protective!Dean, resloved every quicly, wing!kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5796778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deanasaurus/pseuds/Deanasaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where being an angel labels you an outcast; where angels are victims of brutal attacks, discrimination and are forced to hide their wings-the only thing truly making them different from humans-to be able to live a normal life, Cas makes the mistake of showing his wings to his 'friends' resulting in negative circumstances for the angel.<br/>Dean Winchester, a young man forced to raise his younger brother when their father had bailed, finds the angel and a friends blooms between the two.<br/>Castiel has a past of abuse and neglect.<br/>Dean also has a past of abuse, and loss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taken Care Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for giving my story a chance! Kundos' to you!

The man slowly regains consciousness, owlish blue eyes blinking slowly in the warm light of the early autumn morning.

He shifts and stretches out his body groggily, fallen auburn leaves sticking to his ripped clothing, only now to peel off and flutter back down to the cold ground with his every movement. Dark blood stains were dried into the cotton of his shirt, mixed with the dirt and dampness of the ground he had been lying on.

He lets out a sharp hiss of agony as he moves his body, stiff with disuse and a dull, aching pain all over.

He looks over his damaged body, taking note of the dark purple and red bruises, stark against cold, paled skin.

Raw cuts litter his torso and limbs, stinging with every movement he attempts to make.

He carefully moves his wings from where they had been wrapped tightly around him, in a vain attempt at providing warmth and some sort of protection. These were the things his attackers had been targeting that night.

_Last night._

He unfurls them slowly, and winces as the movement opens up some of the deeper cuts that marred the thin skin beneath his frayed, downy black feathers, and hisses as a little blood starts to drip down the broken quills. He extends them fully, discovering that they are broken in several places, the bone shattered from the three pairs of boots trampling down on them earlier that morning.

His lip had been split, courtesy of a hefty punch that had connected the man’s unforgiving fist, with his victim’s trembling mouth.

It was swollen now, the blood dried around it, causing a faint metallic taste to linger on his tongue. He begins to remember the attack more clearly, his eyes squeezing shut as his breathing becomes laboured, the previous night beginning to replay in his mind.

He remembered a day that had began just like any other, finishing his last life drawing class for the day and going for Friday night drinks at The Roadhouse.

Just a normal day like any other.

That is, until Castiel had told his ‘friends’, exactly what he was.

He began to remember once gentle hands; hands that he had once thought were only capable of creating beautiful works of art, that had became rough and deadly, beating him mercilessly.

Eyes, that once held nothing but humour, affection and friendship, had became cold, hard and unfeeling dark pebbles that shone as they stared him down, ignoring his cries of pain.

Legs that he had once walked the corridors of the University of Sioux Falls with, standing beside one another as they worked side by side, had thundered behind him as they chased him into the alleyway.

They had been his friends, his first ever friends, and he had trusted them.

He had thought they were different. But they chased after him into the dark, narrow pathway, as he struggled to get away.

He had run somewhere, he quickly realised, that would take days, perhaps weeks, for someone to find him, if the worst should be assumed.

They had surrounded him.

Trapped him in a corner like a frightened and caged animal, wings folding tight behind his back in a fearful gesture, showing them he meant no harm, although he knew they wouldn't understand. They knew nothing of angels, only that they didn’t belong in their town and should be ‘taken care of’.

He had stared up at them, eyes wide with anticipation of what was to come.

He didn't dare fight back when the first punch had landed, or the second.

They were still his friends.

He could never bring himself to hurt them, no matter how badly they treated him.

By the time the seventh and eighth hit registered, he was certain they wouldn’t stop until they'd killed him. He made no move to stop them, save a few startled flaps of his wings, his eyes had closed tightly when a pair of rough hands grasped the sturdy bone of his right wing, spreading it out to its full wingspan.

He was held down on his stomach by the two men, his arms twisted painfully behind his back.

The cold, wet concrete he was pressed against offered little relief to his beaten body, soaking through his clothes and scratching at his exposed skin.

The remaining attacker proceeded to grab a nearby piece of wood, raising it and bringing it down wherever available on his fragile wing.

When they had finished with his right wing and moved on to the left, he had been verging on unconsciousness, white hot pain spreading everywhere and clouding his vision. Instinct had taken over, and he wrapped his battered, bleeding wings around him in a self-comforting gesture as his whimpers of pain continually went unheard.

They had all walked away after they had had enough of their fun.

They had laughed among themselves, talking of the favour they had done of ridding Sioux Falls of yet another angel.

Awake now, around seven hours later, he tries to hide his wings, only to find that he isn't quite strong enough yet.

He needs to wait a while, maybe a few days at least, until his natural healing process repaired most of his injuries.

 

He curses his luck as he struggles to his feet, staggering out into the quiet street.

He needs some place he can rest without the possibility of others finding him. If he stays in that alleyway, there is a high chance either his attackers themselves will return, or they will call specialised Angel Hunters to find him and strip him of his wings, keeping the body to experiment and find new, more efficient ways to quickly dispose of the angel population. He could no longer return to his apartment, as he was roommates with two of his attackers.

Seeing no other option, he folds his wings in the least uncomfortable and painful position, and makes his way slowly to the main road that would lead him away from Sioux Falls.

 

 


	2. Homemade Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys! Thank you very much for giving this a chance, and reading.

 

Dean was lying on the floor, head resting on several pillows and a single blanket covering him, trying to chase the last of the sleep from his head.  
Sam was beside him, stirring in amongst his own mess of pillows and blankets, once neatly arranged on their makeshift movie-night-bed.  
The TV was still at the DVD menu of the last Star Wars in their box set, most likely played through a few times since they had both fell asleep.

"Deeean..." Sam mumbled from beneath the stack of blankets.

"M' hungry..." Dean rolled his eyes underneath his lids.

Typical Sammy.  
  


Dean reached a hand over and poked him in the ribs, causing Sam to yelp and roll away from him.

"That so?" he grinned, his eyes still closed. He didn't need to open them to know the look of murder his little brother was giving.

"Dean!" his little brother protested.

He hated it when Dean teased him.

This, of course, was why Dean loved to tease him.

If Sam didn’t have such hilarious reactions, then he wouldn't do it so much.

He brought it upon himself, really.

Every miniature bitchface he pulled was priceless.

Said little brother had popped his face out from the Batman blanket he was hidden under, yawning through his scowl, his eyes still tired and his long hair puffy and messy around his face, causing Dean to chuckle.

"But you ate all the damn popcorn last night! And at least half the chocolate whilst you were at it!" The older brother laughed, although he definitely wasn’t surprised.

His brother could eat enough in one day, to feed a small village for an entire week.

"Yeah? So?" Sam scoffed.

Dean sighed, rolling over with his back facing Sam, and began to make exaggerated loud snoring noises.

"Dean!" Sam moaned again, grabbing the nearest pillow and whacking it over the head of his older brother. Dean feigned ignorance, pretending to carry on sleeping, snoring louder, but couldn't help a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He reached his arm out behind him and swatted at Sam’s head, finding his hair and mussing it up even more. He chuckled when he heard Sam’s indignant yelp of annoyance, listening to him shuffle around beside him.

Sam hit him with the pillow once again.

"Get up!" he whined, hitting him a few more times.

"Don't make me have to fill this pillow with Lego's!" he threatened, laughing at Dean's wince.

"Alright, alright!" he surrendered with a smile, "I’m up, I’m up!"

He buzzed Sam in the ribs again, with both hands for good measure, if only to hear his brother’s undignified squeak.

"C'mon Sammy." he nodded over to the kitchen-cross-dining-room, rising none too gracefully from the crumpled heap of all the bedding he would have to wash later on, and making his way there.

Sam recovered from the jab quickly, fixing Dean his signature and very practiced bitchface as he followed behind.  
  


Dean opened the cupboards, gesturing inside like a flight attendant.

"What's for eating, Ginormatron?"

"Pancakes?" he suggested, a pleading smile on his face.

"Great idea!" flashing a matching grin in agreement.

Dean licked his lips at the thought of fresh, warm pancakes, drizzled with golden syrup. He could practically taste it, mouth watering for the sugary treat, as he got out the ingredients.

Sam took his place at the table, smiling at the familiar smell of his brothers homemade pancakes.

"Hey Dean?" he asked after a while.

Dean tossed a "Yeah?" over his shoulder, concentrating on their breakfast.

"Could you drop me off at the library today? I have a few books I ordered in to pick up."

Dean gave an enthusiastic, "'Course!" as he flipped the last few pancakes in the pan, eventually dividing eight finished ones carefully onto two plates and placing them down.

"Carver Edlund?" the older guessed with a grin, going to the fridge to take out the pack of mixed berries, placing the fresh strawberries, blueberries and raspberries on the table Sam sat patiently at. He took out the big bottle of golden syrup for good measure, because, as Winchesters, a little syrup was never good enough.

"Yeah! He just brought more out, too! I hope Jared gets his act together soon though... I mean, you don't have to be a genius to figure out his demon girlfriend's gonna betray him! I mean, she's a demon!"

Dean laughed at the passion in his brother’s voice.

"How's Jensen doing? Dead again?" he asked, genuinely interested. As far as he was concerned, those brothers die way too much, and lie to each other way too often.

"No. Not yet, anyway. We're waiting for the next one." he laughed.

He also thought they died far too much.

"He's doing hunts with this new angel now, Mishael? He pulled him out of hell when he went down. Kinda ironic, really. One brother has a demon, the other has an angel." Dean nodded around his forkful of pancake, syrup and blueberry.

"So, Jensen and Mishael, are they, like, together then? Like, relationship together?" he frowned.

He needed to get the more recent books some time soon. He had thought Jensen was straight.

"Well, not officially. There is a lot of hints though. Some of the fans think that’s where Edlund's taking it."

"What do you think?" Dean asked his brother, curious.

"I think they need to get their act together really soon, and realise they're head over heels in love with each other. I don’t think poor Jared can take much more eyesex." he deadpanned.

Dean laughed for a while, finishing with a thoughtful "Huh."

They got back to general chat about the 'Supernatural' series.

Dean found he quite liked this 'Mishael' dude.

He was exactly what the older brother needed.

He was loyal, and strong, so Jensen didn’t have to worry about losing him, and he was always there for him when Jensen needed him to be. He put him first every time, even if something more important was going on in the angel’s busy life.

He only wished Jensen would appreciate that more.

 

...

 

The local library was only a few miles down the road from where they lived.

Their house had been abandoned for years before they got it, neglected and brooding on the out skirts of town. Bobby had gotten the house for Dean, pulling a few strings with the local cop, Sheriff Mills. The two went way back, so when Bobby phoned telling her about his two almost-sons that were in need of a home, she was more than happy to oblige. Since John, their drunken dead-beat dad, had eventually completely reprised his role as a father.

Deciding instead, to drown his responsibilities in a never ending glass of the strongest whiskey in town.

Bobby had taken in Dean and Sam in the beginning, helping to raise the two when Dean himself was still in need of raising, and filling the role of the father they deserved and needed.

Some of the two’s fondest memories would forever be playing catch on a sunny Sunday afternoon in the nearest park, or for Dean when Bobby decided to teach him everything he knew about fixing up cars. Thanks to Bobby, he knew the ins and outs of any car, and could fix anything he was asked to. When Dean was old enough to get his licence, Bobby had given him his first car. The 67’ Chevy Impala had been the first car he had completely restored without any guidance.

After that, Bobby had clapped him on the back with a proud smile and told him it was his to keep.

For Sam, his fondest memories would be based in the library at the man’s cluttered old house.

Bobby would sit with him for at least an hour each day, pouring over books and teaching Sam how to read better than any of his classmates.

Eventually Sam was able to read mostly every book on the dusty wooden shelves, and before Dean learned how to drive Bobby would regularly make trips to book stores and the library, to make sure he always had something to read.

Their own house resembled Bobby’s in many ways. Everything around the place was cluttered in concentrated messes, be it parts that Dean had accidentally taken home after working at Bobby’s salvage yard, multiple piles of clothes strewn over the floors of both boy’s rooms, DVD cases opened and littered around the TV from their weekend movie nights.

In fact, the only thing that was clean and organised would be their huge collection of books, for which Dean had to convert an entire spare bedroom into Sam’s own personal library just so he could take the ones he liked from Bobby’s place. Their garden hadn’t really changed much from the way it resembled in its abandoned years. Their grass was long and wild, with broken flowerpots and what Dean was pretty sure was a plastic garden table set.

Dean would mow the lawn every other weekend in the beginning, but began to leave it out in favour of other things like Sam’s school demands, and Dean’s work.

He didn’t really have the time for mowing the lawn between working at Bobby’s and helping him out with the shop in the mornings and afternoons, and his regular shifts at Ellen’s Roadhouse Bar in the late afternoons. Plus whatever extra shifts he took from Ellen’s rebellious daughter Jo, who frequently needed breaks from her mother.

They loved each other, of course, but the two were so similar, headstrong and stubborn, that getting alone time was difficult to come by. So, in giving some of her shifts to Dean, who needed the extra cash anyway, she could go off with her friends and do her own thing, while the work was still being taken care of.

“Your hair looks fine, Sammy.” Dean sing-songed as he poked his head through the door of his brother’s room.

“Shut up, Dean.” Sam sighed. It wasn’t the first, and certainly wouldn’t be the last time his older brother teased him about his hair.

Dean laughed loudly as he entered the room.

“The shop’ll be shut by the time I get there at this rate.”

He dropped Sam of at the library, leaving him to study he went further into town to tick of the growing list of grocery’s inked on the forgotten piece of paper in his jeans back pocket.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please leave comments and kudos, and share!!

 

Sam sits Silent, absorbed in the words of his favourite author, Carver Edlund, who wrote a series of all though low selling books, Sam thought them to be amazing and under-rated, They captured Sam in a world of imagination, keeping his mind fixated on every given detail the author gave.

Shifting his view from his book, his eyes catch the entrance of a young girl.

Her hair is long and frames her face with tight light blonde curls, her skin pale and her eyes a sticking azure blue complimented by long blonde lashes.

Her lips a soft pink like the petals of a rose, her cheeks flushing with that same rose' pink. She's petite, and she's wearing a light blue denim pair of skinny jeans, with an over sized hoodie hanging of her shoulders, hands hiding in the fabric of its cuffs.

Catching her gaze, he shifts nervously in his chair, his hands intertwining with each other repeatedly as he fidgets with them under the table in his lap.

He drops his head, planting it in his book.

He can feel warmth spreading through his cheeks, and across the bridge of his nose in a deep shade of red. She is quite, a shyness follows her as she searches the shelf’s of books before heading with a pile of books to the table in front of Sam who despite the voice in his head telling him to look away, to focus on his book, finds himself captured by the young girl, his eyes widening in awe.

Pulling his gaze away from her he diverts his eye back to his book as she lifts her head letting her eyes scan the room.

Finding Sam, who until know had went unnoticed. She feel's butterflies flapping their wings vigorously in the pit of her stomach.

As soon as her eyes met the boy's, everything else around her and all her thoughts seem to vanish. All she sees is darkness around her with the only lit path leading her towards him. Her head drops quickly, fighting the urge to look at him again, Sam gives another glance and then ducked his head in a panic as well.

A chuckle escapes her lips in a nervous laugh, noticing the cute boy looking her way, chancing another glance their eyes clashed once again, a shy smile upon her lips, Sam waves his hands, a gesture of acknowledgement, a small smile matching hers.

 

...

 

Dean, after dropping his brother of at the library, attended to the grocery list before heading for his early shift at Ellen’s bar.

It was Saturday, so Sam would spend a few hours, researching and completing his school assignments at the library giving Dean the time to pick up extra shifts at Ellen’s.

He arrived at the bar; Ellen was out picking up orders.

It wasn't so much a shift, but more of a, unpacking the new deliveries, sorting out the storage, and, of course, checking in with Ellen herself.

Ellen, over the recent years, has become, like Bobby became his father figure, a sort of mother figure; she looked out for Dean like she would her own daughter.

Ellen did all the things a mother would do; make sure he was keeping out of any sort of trouble, and simply being there and caring for him.

“Dean! How you been?” Exited to see Dean.

Jo worked at her mum’s bar every night, now and then she’s give Dean her shifts. It was a two part deal; he’d get the extra cash she knew he needed and she’d get a break from the constant working and over spent time with her mum, she loved her mum but being stuck with someone 24/7 can drive a person crazy, Dean of all people knew that.

Dean loved his dad, would’ve and did do anything for him but there comes a time where watching him being ripped apart by the demons inside his soul, created by the pain and guilt of losing his wife became too much, for both of them.

Before too long a wedge pushed its way in between Dean and him, and that meant that not even Dean could seem to reach him through the cloud of constant pain and guilt that shadow his life.

One night John got up and just left.

Left Dean to the duties of raising and protecting his 7 year old brother.

Dean would watch the alcohol turn his Dad into a monster, possessing his actions.

There had been on a few occasions where violence had come to hand, his dad would lash out, Dean being the victim of the heavy thrown punches and equally painful words that he’d splash like spit in his face.

Part of Dean was glad his dad was gone, no more nights where he’d come home drunk and angry and smash dean about the house.

No more would Sam have to watch a nightmare play out before him and no more would Dean have to lie to his friends about how his ‘black eyes’ came to be- truth be told they always knew it was John they just didn’t want to bother Dean about it, they knew dean didn’t want to talk about it nor do anything about it.

If Dean were to, he risks losing Sammy, he wasn’t old enough (in the eyes of the law) to look after his brother.

Thank god when his Dad ran out bobby stepped in and made sure he kept Sam.

But Dean felt empathy for his dad; his dad had never asked for this, he didn’t ask for his wife to taken from him, killed. Dean knew the guilt that weighed his father down, the pain that ate away at him day by day. He knew the day would come where it would get too much for him and he’d leave.

And when that day came he can’t say he was sad, he would never admit it but a relief replaced the fear that he felt of his dad when he left.

 

“Hey Jo!” grasping her into a hug.

“Not seen you in a while, where you’ve been Winchester?” a comforting smile across her lips.

“You know, saving the world! - Nah! Just been busy with Sam.” flashing a witty grin and a wink towards her way.

Walking past him she gave him a playful nudge to the shoulder, a giggle catching in her throat.

He followed her round back to the storage room, helping her grab a few boxes to bring through front.

“I’m gonna head, Jo... Sam’s at library so need to go get some things done then get him home. All the delivery's are in the bad, signed and counted for. ” dropping the last box on the counter.

“Tell your mum to call me if she’s got any shifts yeah?”

“Course Dean... Don’t be a stranger right, haven’t seen you round at Ashes for a while, Garth’s been missin’ ya too”

“Yeah...tell them I say ‘hey” hesitation in his voice.

Jo was right.

He hadn’t seen his friends for weeks now.

With working the extra shifts at Ellen’s and Bobby’s, looking after Sam... Still picking up the broken pieces his dad left behind; all the guilt that ate away at dean for not stopping his dad from leaving, guilt for letting his dad fall so far that he would rather lay down than get up and fight, he just didn’t have time any more.

“I’ll eh- see ya later okay”

 

 

Sam had a few hours still left at the library so like Dean done most Saturdays he made the drive to Bobby’s, he always checked in on the old man, made sure he was okay.

Bobby’s was a mile or two up the road from Dean’s.

After Bobby’s he head back to the house, he’d pick Sam up from the library after he’d cleaned the house a bit. Well, he'd make the escalating mess an organised one at least.

As he drove home the heaven opened up, rain beating down from above like bullets of water bouncing of the car.

Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to Metallica, he turned the volume up in an attempt to drown out the weather, a waterfall spilling over the front window of the car, blurring the road. The wind shields on at full speed, there was just...Rain.

"What the hell!?"

 

A man, a soaked mess of ruined wings and deep cuts and bruising, stumbling about on his hands and knees at the side of the road.

He slams on the breaks, and exits his beloved Impala with record speed, beginning to walk briskly towards him.

He's barely conscious, and seems just about ready to pass out. Blood stains his dripping wet clothes, and Dean finds himself wondering just what exactly had happened for him to be in such a state.

The two huge wings sprouting from his back were matted, coated with mud, old blood, and what looked to be a thick, oily liquid, clumping the feathers together.

They're weighing heavily on him, and drooped heavily on either side of his torso. He holds them flat out to the cold October rain, in what looks to be an attempt at washing off the coating of blood, dirt and oil. He's trying desperately to clean them of the foreign substances, which can't be at all comfortable, fluffing the feathers up the best he can, and wincing in pain as he spreads them and flaps a little.

The rainwater is likely soaking into the deep gashes on his wings, mixed with the dirt and chemicals of the oil, which ought to sting like a bitch.

He freezes in his place when he notices Dean, wings suspended in the middle of another poor attempt at flapping them, observing him cautiously.  
His eyes widened with fear with each step forward the human takes. His wings snap out abruptly as he turns his body to face him, making Dean flinch and he tries not to think of how painful it must have been for the poor thing. The angel struggles to get away, crawling backwards away from him, never taking his eyes off Dean, wings flailing wildly in panic.

Dean continues to advance towards him, quickening his pace now, as he doesn't want the injured angel to fly away from him before he could help.  
He was damn good at reading their wing language, one of the best according to Sam and Bobby, and he knew their basics inside out. Flight followed situations that angels knew they couldn't win. It was the same basic fight-or-flight response humans had, and several other animals too. Some even say that the saying itself had originated from the behaviours of the tribal angels that humans had observed over the years. The one a few paces ahead of him was gravely injured, cold, soaked to the bone, and most likely in need of water, a hot meal, and a solid night’s sleep. If he couldn't even hide his wings from view any more, then he definitely wasn't strong enough to fight back if Dean attempted anything. Dean’s eyebrows hit the roof in surprise as he observes the angel’s unusual reaction, which happened to be the complete opposite of fleeing. Instead of still trying to escape, he flattens his wings down, pressing them into the grass and making himself look smaller.

Angel 101 told him this was, in fact, submission.  
  


He was looking to Dean as a powerful superior, showing him he wouldn't fight back, even if Dean wanted to kill him.

"P-please... No more..." he choked out, voice hoarse from disuse and pain.

"I'm sorry... I’m so s-sorry... Please, please d-don't..."

"Hey, hey!" Dean spoke, in what he hoped was a calm and reassuring tone. He reaches a hand out, attempting to place it on the right wing that was closest to him, which causes the angel to flinch away so violently; it was as if Dean had a saw at the ready to sever it off.

Which, he supposed, was probably exactly what it looked like.

He shied away from Dean’s touch, trying to press further down into the muddy grass, his arms folded over a particularly deep looking wound still bleeding on his stomach, whimpering quietly. He was too exhausted to even form words.

The older Winchester mentally face-palms as he remembers how some hunters would take angel's wings while they were still conscious.

Dean thought hunting them was horrific enough, but hacking their most sacred possession off, as they watched, most likely tied up, while completely helpless?

Well... That was just downright sadistic.

Sick fuckers the lot of them.

 

If angels were attacked and killed by civilians, then the Angel Hunters Association were the ones to call as angel garbage dispensers, effectively.

They would come and cut the wings from the dead angel, stripping them of their feathers and bone, and then either dispose of the body somewhere discreet, or perform tests to try to expose more weaknesses they could exploit.

Angel feathers were also used frequently in jewellery and as decoration on clothes and accessories, so the feathers were pretty valuable and highly sought after. You got all types and colours of wings, from stereotypical white, cream or gold, all the way to deep reds and blues. From what he could see of the injured angel’s wings, they were a deep black, and they were absolutely massive. Even flattened down and made to look smaller, they were still at least larger than Dean was tall.

It wasn't difficult to imagine how impressive they would be, when cleaned, groomed and gleaming, stretched out to full wingspan.

Black angel feathers were hugely expensive, as they were rare and not many were born with them. When they were born with them, it was easy to tell. Their parents would treat them poorly and, ironically, they were considered the worst colour by their own species, while the best for decorative purposes in another.

Although the wings are an easy payday for hunters, they cost a lot more when actually attached to a living, breathing angel.

Many angels that were in 'good condition' were hunted down, captured, and sold to the highest bidder through a worldwide, sex-trafficking, slave trading organisation which delivered them to wealthy clients to use however they pleased.

Humans may hate angels, but there wasn't a soul out there that could deny how beautiful they were.

And God only knew what happened to beautiful things behind closed doors, with absolutely no laws in place to protect them.

He was suddenly filled with the resolve to reassure the being cowering on the ground before him, staring up at him like the poster boy for 'absolutely fucking terrified', that he was definitely not one of those twisted bastards.

He reaches his hand out yet again, placing a hesitant fingertip on the dirt covered feathers. The wing twitches in suppressed reaction, but the angel made no further attempt to move it from him, seeing it futile.

He instead squeezes his eyes shut tightly, and waits for what probably seems to him like his impending doom.

Dean takes a deep breath and hopes his memory doesn't fail him.

He tentatively traced out ancient symbols on the ruined surface of his great wings, frowning and biting his lip in concentration.

They were called 'Enochian', if he remembered correctly, which was the language they spoke before they met humans.

Before humans were even on Earth, apparently.

It was the oldest language in existence, and apparently not many people could read, write or even speak it. Unlike human children, angels were born with the ability to speak and read Enochian straight away, with no teaching required. He had always wondered himself what everyone found so difficult. Once they had learned it, he and his brother found it just as easy as speaking English.

When he was done, he silently prayed to the Holy God of Pie that he done it correctly, because it could go disastrously wrong if he messed it up.

He leans in and whispers ,"Parach", just in case his symbols had been wrong.

Then again, he may be a little rusty on pronunciation too.

He had no time for doubt, however, as the angel’s eyes shot open immediately, locking onto Dean's bright green ones. He was shivering terribly from the cold and rain, but not once did he break eye contact after that. His lips were slightly parted, Dean noticed that they were swollen and cut. Experience told him that someone had punched him in the mouth or facial area. Repeatedly. Probably about a day or two ago. He was a little surprised by the protective feelings and dull anger that blossomed within him at the thought of this particular angel being beaten.

 

Surely he hadn’t gotten attached already? He hasn't even talked to the guy yet, for crying out loud!

But he hoped not. For both their sakes.

Bad things always followed anything he cared for, or wanted to help.

 

Like when he told his high school girlfriend, Lisa, that he loved her, and her baby son, Ben, like his own, when everyone else in the school whispered their disapproval behind her back and gossiped about her.

But, she and her family had moved away within the month, taking the only family, besides Sam and Bobby, that Dean had left.

Or another time, the time his father had almost put him in hospital after Dean suggested he get help for his drinking. He was unconscious for near five hours, and when he came to, Sam was nursing the worst of his wounds with a soft cloth and a grimace on his young face. He had to lie to everyone for weeks, saying he was jumped late that night, terrified they would find out the truth and people might come and take Sammy away from him.

He never brought alcohol up with his dad again after that.

There were countless others he could rhyme off, a list as long as his arm he thinks, and Dean didn't want to risk being hurt like that ever again. To let someone in, or offer them his time or help, only to have it crushed and thrown back in his face with a laugh from the Universe.

He must have 'Dean Winchester: World's biggest MUG' tattooed across his forehead for all to see.

 

But seeing how easily this angel had just submitted to Dean, barely even trying to escape, suggested he probably didn't fight back when he was being beaten. What was to stop that happening again? Where would he have left to go if Dean left him here all alone, to die? What if the people who messed him up before found him again? Finished off what they started?

What if a hunter found him? Traps him and his beautiful wings in a net, ready to be shipped and sold to some perv with an angel fetish? Where someone would touch him how they wanted, but how they most definitely shouldn't, and do with him what they liked, regardless of what the angel wanted.

 

And, like a stallion with a broken spirit, they would just kill him when he gave in, because he was no longer a challenge. Those bastards didn't just want the angels for their bodies; they actually enjoyed the process of degrading them. Enjoyed hurting them, and using them until they broke. Breaking them down until they couldn't disobey human will any longer. Until there was no more of the natural fight left in them.

He couldn't let him go through any of that.

No, wouldn't let him.

He needed to be protected, kept far away from the people who wanted to hurt or use him like that.  
  


Dean looks at him again, finding himself captivated by the unwavering gaze, and by eyes that seemed to glow brighter than any star he had ever seen. They burn with such a fierce intensity, as if the angel was staring straight into his soul.

Dean was trapped.

He was swimming, absolutely drowning in an endless sea of cerulean blue.  
  


Without so much as an afterthought, he removes his prized leather jacket and wraps it around the other man, shuddering at the loss of heat and the cold rain drenching the shirt on his back. The angel is still staring at him, an expression of wonder etched on his face, the fear in his eyes now replaced with something that looked suspiciously close to trust.

Maybe he should tell the angel not to stare so much. He was trying to concentrate, after all. Having cute-angel-puppy-eyes over there bore his baby blues into him like that was a little unnerving. But, as expected, he still said nothing.

Dean lifts him from the ground gently, hand on his back, below the wing joints, and the angel clutches weakly at the lapel of Dean's shirt and let out a small grunt of pain.   
Dean wishes he knew his name at least, but he could always ask that when he was feeling better.

'Angel' would have to suffice for now. His breathing was slowing to a somewhat normal pace, at least, looking at Dean openly, but pained, as the older Winchester attempted to get him off the ground and into his car. Angel seems to realise this, and panic's slightly, hands gripping tighter on the shirt as his eyes widened. He begins to whimper again, becoming stiff and immovable in Dean's arms.

Dean hums soothingly, making quiet 'shhh' sounds, and rubbing his back, just like he had done for Sammy to calm him down after a particularly bad nightmare.

Sam always came to him when he had a nightmare, as their dad would only tell him to 'man up' and go back to bed. The kid was like, five or six at the time. Hardly the prime age to 'man up', Dean had thought, but not said.

So Dean would comfort him, and read him small stories like 'Peter Pan' and 'The Little Angel'.

The ones he could read by himself, because he was too busy trying to look after his brother to worry about things like school.  
  


"It's alright. Shhh... You're okay now. I got you." he whispers softly.

After what feels to Dean like hours (being, probably only a couple of minutes of the impatient humans time), the angel finally relaxes, eyes heavy with the need for sleep. When he picks the angel up, bridal style, which totally did not have Dean blushing like a teenage girl, he is surprised to see that the wings added on barely any extra weight.   
The angel’s hands are still holding his shirt as the last of the panic seems to fade from him. He carries him to the Impala and coaxed him in the back seat, wincing as the oil and dirty water cover the clean black leather.   
He silently promises his girl he will give her a good clean later on, patting the top of her door affectionately.

The angel, having come into contact with a surface even remotely like a bed, passes out, breathing deeply with his injured wings tucked protectively around him.

Dean smiled despite himself, brushing the unknown angel’s soaked mop of black hair away from his forehead.

"I've got you. You're safe now, Angel." he confirms, turning away before he can notice the hidden smile of relief on his winged companions face before he finally gives in to sleep.

 

 

 


	4. Introductions

 

He wakes with a start, eyes flying open to scan his surroundings.

He's in a strange bed, in a small room, with a man he doesn't know leaning over him tending to a gash that stretches across his face with a wet towel. His body is shaking, a coldness surging through his veins. He's lying on his side, his damaged wings curled up behind his aching, bruised back. In a sudden outburst of fear, adrenaline shooting through his bones, his wings wrap around the shaking mess his body had become, his arms and legs folding within the cocoon of feathers.

Making himself as small as he can, hiding from the stranger that now looks at him wide eyed, confused at the fear that washed over the other man’s face.

“Woah-woah-woah!” Dean backs away from the man, pleading with his hands in the air that he was no threat to him.

“I’m not going to hurt you” softness in his voice, care lighting up like fire in his forest green eyes. This man was actually helping him? But he was an angel? Angels don’t deserve help, that’s the way he was always taught; they were abominations in the eyes of humans.

His wings form a cave around his body, supplying warmth but fear still causes him to shake.

“I’m Dean- Dean Winchester” rubbing the nap of his neck, brushing his hand through his untrimmed dirty blonde hair he looks at the shaking man curled up on his bed with questioning eyes.

“How’d you get out there, what happened to you? “Deans eyes search for an answer in the man’s blue ones. He curls his wings around him tighter, a wince of pain creeping out his lips at the motion of moving his injured wings.

“I-I” The man started unsure of the trust he can place in a stranger, but also in a man who does not have wings- what if he hurt him like his friends done, like other have done?

“Look man, I get it. I don’t have wing’s and you think I’m gonna hurt you? I’m not like others- “Pausing, “I- My mum, eh, she- she had wings and She- “Nearly choking on his words,

“She had wings...” Dean looked at the man who with those words had loosened his posture, relaxing into the bed where he sat.

“So look?” Pausing again.

“Castiel” The man spoke, his voice hoarse and sore.

“So look Castiel, I’m just want to help you.” He reassured the man with a smile.

Dean left Castiel to get changed into the dry, clean clothes he had left sitting at the bottom of the bed, while he made a phone call to Sam, he was late to pick him up and he was properly freaking out.

 

“Hey Sammy” Dean went to continue when-

“Don’t you Sammy me! Your late Dean, I’ve been waiting for 40 minutes.... Where are you?!” Anger spitting out of Sam’s mouth.

“Look Sammy I’ve texted bobby he’s gonna come and pick you up, take you to his alright?”

“Dean what’s wrong? “Deans words coaxing worry into Sam’s voice, suddenly spreading like wild fire in his mind.

“Nothing Sam, It’s fine... Just got some things I need to do and it’s best you’re at bobby’s Okay? Bobby’s going to drop you of tomorrow “

The phone call ends with Sam getting into bobby’s truck.

 

Dean returns into the house and finds Castiel waiting on the bed wearing the dry, clean clothes he had given to him.

He takes the man’s dirty clothes; that includes a tan coloured trench coat, well he assumed it was meant to be tan but it now resembled a dark shade of brown, red blood smeared through the fabric along with it. The rest of the clothes he wore; a black suit jackets with matching suit pants and what used to be a white shirt. Dean takes and immediately throw them into the washing machine, he was sure that the trench coat would be okay, so too the black pants and suit, but the white shirt?

Hell there was no point in trying to clean that so he threw it in the garbage making a mental note to buy the man a new one.

He sat almost motionless, fixated on one spot of the wall caught in a daze.

Dean takes the moment to look at the man sat in his room, on his bed. What had happened to him?

What- Who had left him in such a mess? Castiel falls out of his prolonged gaze, tilting his head towards Dean, who stands in the door way.

Slowly, Dean takes a step into his room, motioning towards the bed where Castiel remains head tilted looking at him. He’d brought a clean, damp towel back with him to tend to the gashes on Castiel face and bare back.

He hadn’t tried nor thought about touching the man’s wings.

 

Later that night, Dean lay on the couch.

He’d given the man his room- his bed.

As he lies slugged on the couch he begin to wonder about what had happen to the man resting in his room and more importantly why?

Angels weren’t accepted in society, they were excluded, and they were used.

Dean never did understand why, angels had never done nothing wrong they were just different and society?

Can’t deal with different. In fact Dean’s opinion on Angles is so far-fetched from society’s that he’s apparently floating among the stars while everyone else is missing out down on the ground. His opinion was far from the social norm, voicing it had gotten him a broken nose and a few black eyes in the past. His mom had been an angel, hell had angel blood in him, so when humans hurt angels it felt personal.

 

In the morning Castiel wakes before Dean, he stays wrapped up in the cover on Dean’s bed not wanting to intrude in on the man’s home. Castiel hadn’t slept as sound as dean thought. He had woken up through the night, he would have been screaming if the fear hadn’t attacked his throat, drowning the sounds that his vocal chords attempted to make. He's seen two familiar faces staring down at him; he lay on the ground, black and blue. Then it went dark and he’d wake up more faces surrounding him, older familiar faces chanting the same sore words over and over and over...

_‘You’re not one of us, you never have been! You never will be’_

_‘You are not one of us, you never where and you never will be!!’_

 

When Dean finally wakes he goes in to check on Castiel. He sits hands in lap, his wings no longer on show. His hair spiked out in all directions, Deans eyes widened at the sight of the man in front of him. His morning hair and bright almost innocent baby blue eyes causing a tight lump to catch in his throat, but he chokes it down with a cough.

“Hey, how’d you sleep?” The man shuffles on the bed.

“I slept okay, thank you” a smile peering at the side of his lips, he hadn’t really, that nightmare had kept him awake for hours, but as of the fact he doesn't really know this man and doesn't want to seem ungrateful he decides not share his discomforts.

“Good, glad to hear it. I’m gonna go cook up some breakfast... fry up okay?” Castiel eyes widen in shock. The kindness this man was showing him was...unfamiliar and un-nerving at the least. If past experiences means anything, this man wants something from him...he must. “Yes, thank you. That sounds great.” He speaks after the small pause.

“Well, just come through to the kitchen when you’re ready.” A cheerful smile lighting up his face.

 _His smile is gorgeous!_ The words almost jumps out of the angel’s throat.

“Here are some clean clothes you can borrow.“ Only know did Castiel realised the pile of clothes Dean held in his hands, he had been too distracted by the man’s smile, by those green eyes.

“Thank you, Dean.” It was the first time he’d said Dean’s name. When Dean heard his name a surge of electricity shot through his spine, his heart beat quickened and red seeped into his cheeks. Why was the man making him so nervous, so soft? Every time he looked at his big blue eyes he was sure his heart was melting, sinking to the pit of his stomach.

_No, this can’t be happening.... I don’t—I’m not..._

His train of thought cut off.

“Dean? “Castiel speaks. In no way was this helping Dean’s predicament. Another lump was forming in his throat, his heart beat jumping through his chest. A feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time settling behind his rib cage.

Snap out of it! Just cause the man’s got beautiful, blue as the sky eyes and his hair that – God dammit! He wanted so badly to drag his hands through the man’s messy-CUTE- morning hair and..

_No! Stop it!_

He cut his train of thought, dropping it off a cliff, he couldn’t think that way about a man he doesn’t know.... and he’s not even...

“Are you okay, Dean?” He finishes, snapping Dean out of his daze. His head is tilted, he looks like a puppy, the man continued to look at him waiting for an answer.

“Yeah man, I’m good. So just come through when you’re ready.” He places the folded pile of clothes next to Castiel on the bed and leaves the room in somewhat of a rush. Dean goes straight for the kitchen and begin to prepare their fly up.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat again he cracks the eggs into the pan, his hands are shaking slightly, his heart beat although slowing down still banging away at his chest. He wipes his sweaty palms down the front of his jeans, gulping down a gasp of air.  
  


_Get yourself together_

_Get yourself together!_

He repeated to himself under his breath.

_You’re not... You’re not!_

He mutters.

 

Dean’s head shoots up from his view of the pan, when Castiel shuffles round the corner and stands by the door.

“Come on man, sit at the table... Be ready in two!” awkwardly smiling at Castiel.

He makes his way to the table as he was told and sits down on the chair facing Dean as he stands by the frying pan, sizzling bacon.

After the bacon finishes cooking he equally distributed it between two plates, an egg each and two sausages.

The toast popped out of the toaster and then it joins the rest of the fry up on their plates completing their breakfast.

He takes his and Castiel’s plate over to the table and he sits across from the angel, sliding his plate over to him. Dean before anything else takes the brown sauce found in the middle of the table along with the salt and pepper pots and squeezes a mountain onto his plate.

About to dig into his breakfast he looks over at the other man’s plate, then up towards his face.

“Dude! Come on you can’t have a fry up without brown sauce!” He was being serious but a smile danced on his lips. The man looked at Dean’s plate then to the brown sauce Dean held out for him to take. He takes it a squeezed a considerably less amount onto his plate and looked at Dean Questionably.

“This okay? “

“Yeah...I mean you didn’t have too I was-“he smiles.

“Okay now try it, See now what you do is you take some egg” Demonstrating with his own,

“and some sausage and then a bit of bacon” Forming a tower of fry up on his fork,

“Then you finished it off with a bit of toast!” Before shuffling it into his mouth.

Castiel copies.

“Mm...This is delicious... Mm!” He eats the rest of his breakfast that way, a bit of everything and shoves it into his mouth.

Biting of more than he could chew, he swallows the last fork full down hard.

“I really enjoyed that, not had a meal like that for years and I have never eaten it quite like that before.” A gleaming smile stretching over his face, his eyes carrying a new found light.

No one had ever been so kind to him. His friends had turned on him when they found out; his family disowned him and left him with no one. Only one of his brothers, Gabriel, still talked to him. Now and then he’d call and see how he was, let him know how the rest of his family was. Castiel, despite all his family had done to him, still worried and cared for them. Gabriel was the only one, who had tried to stick up for him, but no matter what he tried their mother, Naomi always won, and it was her way or no way. After being kicked out, abandoned by his family he moved to South Dakota, the small town of Sioux Falls. He went about his new life and didn’t dare show his wings, he couldn’t and would not risk letting anyone know. He just got on with his new life and made new friends.

It was his mistake, he never should have told them.

Now, he’d lost everything.

His home, his friends, his life.

He’d have to start over, again.

Dean gets up from the table and takes his and Castiel’s plate to the sink.

Sam would be back soon so he had to get the dishes down so he could clean up the house.

Castiel replaced the time dean was going to use to organise the mess building in their home.

Old magazines scattered the coffee table, dirty washing in one pile, and clean clothes in the next.

Dishes where piling up too, Dean usual did the dishes every night, they would never lie longer than a day if that, but with his late shifts at Ellen’s and extra shifts he’d picked up on the side; this week he’s got more than his usual load of shifts, it meant more cash even if that meant sacrificing all his time.

It was weird for the house to be so disorganised and unattended too, he was always on top of things, well, usually.

He had worked every night this week and Saturday was his only night off. He had planned on using that time to get on top of things; the house work, going through house bills, paying as much of them off as he could, mow the over grown and looking abandoned lawn.

But when Castiel showed up on the radar, that all got pushed to the bottom of the list, the man he didn’t even know becoming top of his priorities.

“I’ll do the dishes if you wish.” He offers as he stands from the table walking towards Dean who stands in front of the sink, filling with soapy bubbles.

“Eh I'ts okay-“

“I insist, you’ve been so good to me Dean, I owe you this.” ‘And so much more’ he thinks as Dean steps aside allowing him access to clean the piling up dishes crammed into the, know over flowing sink. He quickly turns the tap off.

“Thanks man, I’m gonna go and clean the house up a bit. My brother’s getting dropped off very soon, He was at a friend of mines last night cause of –“

“Because of me” He finishes dropping his head.

Letting the plate he held in his hands slip from his finger tips, spits of soapy water splashing at his face.

“No it wasn’t like that, just you were so hurt and I didn’t want Sam to see you like that.... Also I didn’t want to scare you more than you were...” he says reassuring the angel.

He was right, Castiel was terrified last night.

“His name is Sam and he’s only 15....don’t worry he feels the same as me about Angels.” Castiel smiles at dean, it was weird he barely knew the guy and yet he felt so safe around him, like he could trust him. He didn’t know what it was about him, but something about Dean made him calm, he felt like for the first time ever he could, belong. How could a man he only just meet make him feel that way? Dean had saved his life, he had given him a place to stay, gave him clothes and food.

He owned him so much, how would he ever repay him?

He literally owed Dean his life.

 

 

When Sam arrives Castiel is sitting on the couch, Dean had finished cleaning the living room and had made his way through both his and Sammy’s room too. Dirty washing thrown into the machine, beds made, rubbish in trash can out back, and the house was habitual again.

Sam strolls into the kitchen right past the man who sits on the couch in the living room, not even acknowledging him. Dean who is outside talking with Bobby; letting bobby know the circumstance and a light thank you for looking after Sam.

“Hey Sam!” Dean shouts entering the living room, returning from the front door.

“What!” He returns, he was hungry- he would have thought starving but that always had lead to a lecture taught by none other than his brother about how the kids in Africa were starving and how he had no idea- he’d had that lecture so many time it had almost drilled out the use of the word. Bobby wasn’t the best cook in the world, in fact he was sure even a dog wouldn’t have touched what he attempted to cook last night, and make him eat.

“I’d like you to meet Castiel” gesturing to the man on the couch Sam had strolled past in the rush to the fridge, convinced he was dying of starvation- sorry hunger. Castiel stands from the couch stepping next to dean, Sam smiles giving a shy wave.

“Hi, nice to meet you, I’m –“

“Sam.” Castiel finished off, reaching a hand out towards the boy, who takes it nervously giving a firm hand shake and another pleasant smile.

“So Castiel?” He asks.

“Yes that would be correct...Your brother has found it within himself to shorten my name to Cas-“

“I can stop if you don’t-" He didn’t want to insult Cas- I mean Castiel.

“No, I do not mind... I rather like it” Cas interrupts, that wasn’t the first time he had finished what dean was going to say, dean, if he didn’t know better would have insisted he was reading his mind, but that’s ridiculous.

Right? Of course it is, Dean decides.

“Okay, Cas it is!” A gleaming smile spreading across his face.

The rest of the night consists of Sam questioning Cas over diner and then again at supper, a few new ones flung in the mix, you know, to keep it interesting;

 

_"How old are you?_

_What’s it like having wings?_

_What happened to you?_

_Where are your family?"_

 

After the challenge of dodging Sam’s questions, they finish off their pancakes; Sam had convinced dean to make more for their supper with the puppy dog eyes Dean had never been able to resist, then they had got ready for bed.

Cas borrowed some more of deans PJ’s and found himself, again, in Dean’s bed.

Dean took to the couch for another night.

The house fell silent and the static buzz of the TV screen in the living room was the only noise that could be heard roaming through the house...

Suddenly broken Screams of anguish scratched at the angels throat, seeping through the air and rumbling through the house....

Another Nightmare.

 

 

 


	5. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS**  
> This chapter has descriptions of rape/non-con abuse through a description of a dream.  
> This will be a main theme dealt with throughout this story.

 

He shoots up straight in bed, trembling. Fear dripping of his skin like melting wax, each breath feels like a frigid liquid is filling his up his struggling lungs, sharp twisting pains in his chest as he clenches and fists the bed sheets with his sweaty palms; his wings curled tight behind his back.

The echoes of his nightmare over powering all his thought, He could see it all, all of it, all over again.

 

_He was in his family home, It was family dinner night; they'd get together every Sunday, all his brothers and sisters, even family friends and they’d have a nice meal and talk about their week. Everyone had come this Sunday, Lucifer, his eldest brother, had even brought along a friend._

_Lucifer was 20, putting the age gap between him and Castiel, 5 years._

_Castiel had went up to bed later than usual, but still the 'adults' talked down stairs sipping away at expensive wines, a few bourbon’s on the side for the men._

_He was sitting at his desk, his lap top screen lighting up the feature of his face in the darkness of the room as he worked on his week late homework._

_There was a creak at the door before someone was entering his room, the shadows distorting their figure, hiding their face from his curious eyes that were scanning the black figure closing the door behind him._

_"Hello?” Questioning who had entered his room._

_"Shhhhh...” was all he heard before, suddenly, he was pinned to the wall, a hand gripped tight around his neck. His heart was thumping in his chest, the man’s hand choking the air out of his throat. A dirty sock reeking of sweat was quickly shoved into his mouth and then his lips were stuck together with duct tape._

_He’s pulled back by the hand still clenched tight around his neck and then slammed back against the wall, his back facing the man insinuating the attack, his breath against his neck, an over powering musk of alcohol clouding his senses._

_The man kneed him in the back of his legs, Castiel’s knees going weak and he falls to the carpet of his bedroom. He was trembling in the other mans grip, twisting and turning to get away. He wanted to kick and punch, he wanted to run as far as he could, he wanted, he needed out of this room but fear had drained his energy, he couldn't move, his legs and arms wouldn't let him._

_His mind screamed, his head drowning in questions, and fears!_

_What was going to happen?_

_Why is he doing this?_

_He kept trying to scream, yell for his brothers, for his sister._

_Only later would he find out they had gone home, only his mother and Lucifer were left, so drunk nothing could nor would disturb their Un-conscious states._

_He began to beg, mumbling through the tape that trapped his pleads._

_Please! Please- No nononono!- only mumbles making their way out._

_There was no use, as his body continued to fail at the orders his mind was screaming at him, to move, to fight back but nothing happened._

_"This is going to be so much fun!" a demonic laugh resonating in Castiel's ears sending fear shooting straight through his spine, freezing him still as the cold-chilling –shiver echoed through his body, leaving pins and needles to attack sharp at his skin, as the laugh taunts in his ear, he's being flung across his room._

_Landing harshly on the floor, he struggled and half crawling towards the door, scrabbling for the exit that seemed further away by every inch and ticking second._

_The man reached around to his back pocket to draw out a knife. "How about you show me those wings?" He teases._

_Castiel struggles, Bruises punctured into his skin as the man grips him tight and holds him down over the edge of the bed. The knife pressing at the nap of his neck, trailing around and down his collar bone drawing blood, a sudden and surprising burst of adrenaline allows Castiel to knock the knife from the man’s grip, sending it flying across the room, out of his reach._

_Maybe he was angry at his loss of control or the angel’s disobedience. "Stop hiding from me!"_

_Whatever the reason, this marked the end of the preliminaries; he was now on his stomach, the man on his back. In the next moment everything slowed down. He stood up and dragged him further to the end of the bed with nails breaking into his skin. He attempted to twist and made a half crawl but failed when the stronger man yanked him back roughly, pressing down hard and taking what he wanted._

_As the man felt stolen pleasure, Castiel felt nothing but pain._

_He made noises, they were nothing, and they were soft footfalls._

_They seemed to urge him on, giving him a righteous purpose. Castiel scrambled on the bed, fisting in the bed sheets. His begs and pleads trapped in his head, silenced in his throat and caught between his lips and tape sealing them together._

_Even if there was no tape stopping his pleads to scream out his mouth he was sure his voice would fail him, jumbled up words and broken sentences trailed his thoughts._

_He must have passed out as he wakes in twisted blood soaked sheets the next morning. Bruising lining his thighs, his back, his hip’s and arms. Blood stained across his purple and blue skin. Smeared into the ripped clothes that were left on his used body._

 

This was when his eye's had shot open and he was back in Dean's room, more screams rips through his throat as Dean bursts through the door to find Castiel, looking liked he'd seen a ghost; he was trembling, his wings attempting to shelter his body, he was muttering a name over and over and over...

Begging this man to stop...

_"Alistair please stop..."_

_"No! nonono! Please Alistair! Please!"_

“Cas! Cas! It’s me, you’re okay – You’re okay!” Dean gathered the angel in his arms; his howling cry’s filling the silence of the night.

He collapses in Dean’s arms which are grasped tight around him, muffling the smothered cries still ripping through his throat, swollen with emotions and the terrorizing memories of that night, tears streaming from his eyes; heavy rainclouds in his mind letting loose of their turbulent nature. He was crying a river, with ragged currents flowing down his cheeks and staining on the wilted collar of Dean’s shirt as he curled into him deeper, Dean wrapped him arms around him tighter while he shakes with the aftershock of the earthquake that had crumbled his dreams into a nightmare. Castiel’s wings enclosed the both of them in a feathery cocoon; he lifts his head and looks up at the man holding him in his arms.

“Dean?” His swollen and sore red eyes coaxing tears from Deans as his hurt expression slices straight through Dean’s heart strings, his lips tremble along to the racing heartbeat of the man he holds secure in his strong arms.

“Cas?! Tell me? What’s wrong.” Dean wants so badly to help the shaking man that he's holding together in his arms, Castiel’s head finds the crevice of Deans neck, burying his nose deep in the fabric of his shirt.

" _Alistair! Alistair..."_

Again he mumbled over and over, begging and begging!

He was drifting back into his dream, Alistair’s face haunting his mind, a ghost dean could not see.

_"Pleasepleaseplease!"_

“Cas, itss okay!? Your here, It’s just a dream...Your okay!”

Suddenly his eyes shot to Deans, all he sees is green before...dark!

 

...

 

Consciousness is slow in returning to the angel, but when it does, the result is explosive.

He shoot bolt upright, whipping his head back and forth, disorientated for a moment by the combined strain of serious exhaustion and induced migraine and the darkness that surrounds him. It takes a minute to make out the outlines of nearby furniture, and another to recognise the man running into the room.

It was still night out, and as his pounding head quelled just enough to restore her vision back to normal, he fixated on a pair of reassuring green eyes that stared at him through the glowing light coming from the table side lamp the man had just turned on.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice is shaky.

“Dean... I’m sorry for waking you.” his voice was small, a mere whisper of a noise catching in Deans listening ears.

“Cas? Are you okay?!” He didn’t care about the angel waking him, he didn’t care at all. He just wanted him to be okay, wanted to make him feel safe. Dean had held him in his arms for minutes- maybe it was only seconds- but he hadn't wanted to let him go.

He'd felt a possession claiming his body as he held the man tight in his arms, not ever wanting to let him go. Because, in those moments he felt whole, that having the angel in his arms was as if holding a piece heaven in his grasp.

No one had ever made him feel so calm, he felt protection over this stranger like he felt for Sam and he didn’t understand why?

He didn’t understand why a man he did not know make his heart literally skip a damn beat.

He didn’t know what he felt just that he liked it and it was when ever Castiel was near. A settling of nerves had found their home behind his rib cage, and in the angels presence his heart would run as wild as his thoughts, a tamed lion released from its cage, a river spilling from a dam.

“I-I- I’m O-Okay...” his expression blank, emotionless, his voice struggling, his words catching, and twisting on his tongue.

The green eyes he gazed at sent warmth through his bones, melting his fears away, in that moment he feels safe.

He is safe.

As Deans arms wrap around him his body goes limp, butterflies taking flight deep in the pit of his stomach, gulping down the lump in his throat. Dean doesn't know why he's cuddling up with the angel, doesn't know why he wants to just that he does. In his bed, with Castiel in his arms he feels complete, the empty space that grew each day suddenly filled, hell it was gone.

“Cas? Do you want to talk about it?”

They fit together perfectly he thinks as Castiel's head nudged into the crevice of his neck, his breath hot and tingly on Deans skin. Castiel had closed his eyes, his mind has gone quite and calm and all he can think about was how their bodies melted together, how he feels like they are one.

He went from the worst feeling in the world to a feeling of peace, comfort and safety in the other mans arms; a perfect dream with no worries or fears.

 

“Dean?” Sam quietly questioned from outside the door snapping Dean out of his gaze.

In one moment he was there, cuddling the angel.

The next he was across the room, awkwardly rubbing the nap of his neck, taking a deep breath and muttering- God knows what- under his breath.

The angel felt lost, empty without the man’s strong arms tightly around him, protecting him. Castiel missed his eyes, the emerald green eyes he couldn't help but stop and look at, a glimpse would end in staring, and a piercing green he needed to see again. He felt a strong need to be in dean’s arms again, a need to be where he was. Castiel did not understand the feeling overcoming him, the urge he felt for this man.

“Hey Sammy...” dean quietly whispers “He had a nightmare...he’s okay - well for now.” Sam just nods.

“Go back to bed, right... You’ve got school in the morning.” Sam tiredly nods again then turns away and enters his room across the hall-way.

Dean ducks his head into his bedroom.

“Hey, I’m gonna go off to bed, You be okay now?” tiredness lacing his voice.

Castiel was about to answer ‘Okay’, he doesn't want to keep Dean up any longer. He doesn't want to bother him but he doesn't want him to leave either, he doesn't want to be alone again. He wants him to cuddle him up again, stop him from falling apart.

In deans arms he feels safe and he needs that right now.

“Can you please stay?” the words stumble of his tongue. Dean doesn't say a thing.

Without thinking he crawls up next to the angel and scoops him into his arms.

Why was he so comfortable with doing this?

His breath hitches when the angel snuggles deeper into his chest, his heart is jumping in his throat.

Red washes over his face, flushing through his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

Thank god it’s dark or Cas would see; the control he seemed to have over dean.

How he could make him blush to scarlet red, make him question every thought he has. Dean lies with the angel, and when Castiel falls asleep Dean is still awake. His mind scrambled as the wall he’d built up, the doors he didn’t know he locked came undone, broken down by none other than, Castiel.

Dean felt his consciousness ebbing away, and then all his thoughts ended; his thoughts about Castiel, the angel he had rescued, the man he saved and now the one he was falling for. He had known from the start from the butterflies and settling nerves, the way his electric blue eyes light up Dean face with crinkles as he couldn’t contain the smile that curled on his lips.

Dean had thought long and hard before he dazed into a dream.

Thought about himself; about the things he had hid away in the deepest, darkest spots of his mind, behind stone walls and locked doors. But the wall were falling down, the doors smashed open and a crashing tide of lost and hidden emotions were drowning his mind.

He thought about his Dad; how his dad raised him to be a ‘man’, to always be strong even when you feel weak, to be a stereotypical male; the image of a jock in high school comes to mind.

And that’s exactly what Dean is; he is strong even when he wants to be weak, he takes control and is the ‘alpha male’ in all situations- (well, it was a different story with his dad; John would always, always be in control. John was The man of the house.)

His dad wanted his son to be so much, to be his perfect image of what a son should be that Dean always felt like he was failing him. His dad wanted a soldier and he felt like a blunt instrument. Useless.

When his mother died ever thing seemed to amplify.

Despite all that, Dean and his dad were close.

His dad was his best friend until Mary died, and then everything crumbled, and went to hell.

That’s when his dad got drunk, permanently, then came the violence.

So anyways, being raised to be the image of a ‘typical’ man had created problems for Dean.

The feelings and thoughts that he had locked away deep in his sub-conscious were hidden for a reason.

By the time dean was sixteen he had settled on the facts that he was not just into girls, he liked boys too. When his dad caught his drift, it would be a night he would never forget; Flung out on the streets with harsh hard words hitting him on the way out the door, as he hits the cold ground.

After that night he buried those feelings, over the years he had forgotten those thoughts, it became like they were never there to begin with.

But now they were back, filling his mind, thoughts settling in cement. And denial wasn't in the cards.

His walls were broken down and it was all because of one angel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for reading :) 
> 
> So, this is still going to be a slow build.  
> The kiss isn't going to escalate to much more (for now), this is just going to be a spur of the moment thing.

 

He wakes in his own bed with Castiel in his arms...  
  


“Good morning” Castiel’s voice is quiet in Dean’s ear. In realising his chest on Dean’s head, his arm that hooked around his centre he shuffles away, sitting upright on the bed.

“Good morning Cas” smiling as he says it.

Cas wants so badly to snuggle up next to Dean again, wrap his arms around him, breath in his scent.

Dean wants to wrap his arms around Castiel, feel his warmth against his skin.

They both sit slightly slugged on the bed, both wanting to melt into the person next to them, to feel their warmth and the safety it brought.

“How’d you sleep Cas, you know after-“

“the nightmare?” Castiel adds, “I slept fine...good even.” He told dean.

“I-I’m glad... Sorry by the way, for you know, falling asleep with you.” trying on a light smile.

“I-It’s okay....I-I’m kind of glad you did.” A nervous smile playing on his lips, red washing over his face.

Dean couldn’t contain the smile that appeared, lighting up his face. Castiel actually was glad he stayed, and he was glad too.

“I’m glad too” he smiles.

 

...

 

 

It’d been a few weeks since that night. Castiel’s wings had now healed and he was back to hiding them, him and Dean had grown closer and it was now routine; Cas would go to bed in Deans bed alone, but by the end of the night Dean was there, hugging him after another nightmare.

He had asked Cas a few times who Alastair was. He tried not to think about it too much, it worried Dean a lot.

He didn’t know who this man was, just that he had and was hurting Cas. Dean was always granted with the same reply... ‘I’m okay, Dean, he is no one of import’, he had learned not to ask. Clearly the angel didn’t want to talk about it and he wasn’t going to make the guy.

So they’d get up and get dressed, have breakfast then Sam would go off to school.

Dean would work his shifts and Castiel would stay home; it was boring at times and he sometimes struggle with what to fill the time with, but Bobby had given him some books round that he thought the angel might enjoy.

Dean had also gotten him some books from the library and Sam, although hadn’t yet, was willing to let him borrow some of his.  
  


It was Monday morning.

After breakfast was made, eaten and then cleaned up.

Sam was sent off to school and Dean was in the shower. Castiel got dressed into more borrowed clothes before he found his place on the sofa with the remote in his hands. He flicks and flicks through the channels before deciding to watch an episode (or two) of ‘Dr Sexy MD’ listed under Dean watched and favourite categories. He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his throat. He sat there quietly watching the TV, for a while.  
  


Dean dozed out of the shower and into the living room where Castiel face turned bright red and his hands found each other fiddling nervously. Dean had walked out with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips, his skin still damp and hot.

If Castiel didn’t know any better he’d be sure dean was teasing him; but dean didn’t like him like that..... _did he?_

All the angel wanted to do was ruin him in all the right ways, tare his finger through his blonde hair, feel the touch of lips on lips, skin on wet skin.

He wanted dean and he wanted him right there and now.

_He’s got to be teasing me!?_

Playing over and over in the angels mind.

Dean gives a cheeky wink accompanied with a witty grin, flashing it right at Castiel.

_That’s it!_

It was too much for Cas!  
  


He had already stood from the couch, already edging closing to Dean without any knowledge of his movement.

Suddenly Dean leap forward abruptly pressing their lips together before he can think of any good reason to stop.

It was a simple kiss, no depth-just the slants of their mouths together.

A soft sound of surprise and acceptance leaving Castiel’s mouth as his lips sink deeper into Deans.

By the time he gets over the initial shock of Deans sudden claim of his lips, he was reacting but Dean was pulling away, a sigh leaving his lips.

His face is blank, almost emotionless if it wasn’t for his big emerald green eyes pleading for some sort of understanding, an apology ready to roll of his tongue.

“You don’t have to apologise Dean.”

It was like as soon as the first kiss ended another begun. It starts of as a simple pressing of their lips, both wanting to push for more, but almost too scared too. Dean hands in Castiel's hair, at the nap of his neck, pulling him closer and deeper into the kiss with every tough.

It's gentle and possessive, captivating. Ragged breathing fills the silence and their dancing tongues bring a fiery heat to the cold shivers of disbelief, shock and nerves. As their lips pull part, the coldness of loss flutters over the flame extinguishing the desperate heat that urged them to slam their lips together again.

Their breathing comes out short and fast, the intensity washing away as they locked eyes.

“I-That was” Dean breathes, heavy.

“Yeah...” the angel replies, detangling his fingers from Deans and slugging back onto the couch. Dean joins him. They sit there in silence, watching episode after episode of, yes, more ‘Dr Sexy MD’ until Sam arrives home from school.

Dean would usual pick him up but Sam had insisted in letting Jessica’s mum give him the lift.

“Don’t you need to go get Sam?” Castiel broke the silence.

“Nope, He met a girl at the library and now he’s, like, heavy crushing on her. Her mum’s giving him a ride home after him and Jess have picked some books from the library, God I swear the amount of books that kid reads is like the definition of nerd” Laughing at what he said.

“Okay...So he will be back?” He questioned.

“About half an hour, probably.” He remarked.

It returned to awkward silence until dean rounds up the courage to bring up what they both were avoiding, as they mindlessly watched the TV playing in the back ground, they were only using it as a distraction; Castiel had decided he didn’t like Dr Sexy and that the whole TV show was fake and a vain attempt at entertainment.

Dean on the other hand wasn’t paying attention because he had no need to, he had seen the entire series of episode’s back to front, it was something he was secretly proud of; his guilty pleasure.

“So? Eh Cas.....we should talk about what happen earlier, Okay?” hesitation dragging the sentence.

“Okay.” Was the one wore reply dean gained.

 

 

 

 


	7. The start of something new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for still reading!! Please enjoy!  
> Leave comments, kudos and share! :D

 

Minutes go by and no more words are spoken, the angels gaze is fixated on his feet. Dean shuffles and sits up straight, his mouth opening to speak, closing it instantly as a small, whisper creped out of the angel’s lips.

“Dean? I don’t know what to say....I don’t know why I kissed you just that I knew I wanted too...” His voice got quieter with every word he spoke.

“Well, that’s a good start.” relief leaving through a breathy laugh.

“I’m not sure either, Cas, I just know that for a long.....long time I’ve been lost and...earlier, I-It just...I felt whole again, like the hole was gone.” he looks at the angel as he stutters those last words.

_The hole was gone_

When his mother died, the hole was because she was gone, when his dad changed it grew because he’d lost the dad he used to know, when his dad left and deserted him, dean had lost everything he’d ever known, everything but Sammy. It seemed he was more missing pieces than not.

“Dean I” He tried.

“Dean, I can’t- I” He doesn't know what to say, he feels something for Dean, something he’d never felt before, an over powering urge possessed him whenever he was near the other man, his heart would race against the thoughts pounding in his head, screaming,

_Lovelovelove!_

But that feeling, those thoughts, they were chased away, from the loving heights of heaven to the burning depth of hell, by the haunting ghost of the man who had stole so much from him that Sunday night years before, by the memories that man had stained into his innocent mind from that night and others of the same. They would turn to doubt, to fears; of being loved, of never being good enough- undeserving of any ones love.

_You don’t deserve his love!_

_You’re worthless and a waste of his time_.... Screaming in his mind, over and over and over...

“I’m sorry dean...”

He was running, running from the chance of love- I don’t deserve this. The words Alistair had threw in his face, carved deep in his mind, tainting every decision he had ever made. Alistair’s voice was chasing him away, hitting hard, word after word, insult after insult he had ever said.

“I have to go.”

There was a tear of wind, that feathery sound you hear when a flock of doves rush above your head, filling the small room as Wings sprouted from his back like branches from a tree; Broken branches. Delicate yet powerful, each detail was distinctly marked, each dark soft feather as black as ink tinted crimson, his wings still healing; were lined with deep cuts and still feathers matted together with mud and dried up blood. His blood. They spread wide across the room, reaching the far corner and rose above his head.

Dean’s eyes widen in awe before the angel is gone, leaving the magazines and sheet of paper that had once been on the coffee table to cascade down above his head. The only evidence that allowed you to know there was ever an angel here is the black feathers left behind joining the paper on the floor from the wisp of wind created by the flapping of his beautiful angelic wings.

Deans voiced echoes through the house, he searches every room, behind every door. His face dressed in worry for the angel, confusion and hurt sinking to the pit in his stomach. Just as Dean is bursting out the front door, yelling the angels name through the house, Sam pulls up in a car with Jessica.

Perfect timing, Sammy.

“Sammy, I-I need to go and find ...em ...Cas-“Hesitation in his words. Sam stood Hand in hand with Jessica; ‘jeez’ Dean thought ‘That moved on quick, it’s been like two days?’ If it were any other situation he’s be smiling for his brother, he was happy for him, he really was. But all that was on his mind was the angel; what if he gets hurt, again...

“Dean? What are you talking about? I seen Cas, like ten minutes ago....Said he was”

“Sam! It doesn’t matter what he-“Taking a deep breath and a step back from his brother and the girl standing beside him.

_I have to find him._

“Sam, where did you see him?” Noticing the worry unfolding in Dean’s green eyes, the fear that was compelling his brother, coating his mind with thick worry and heavy anguish, Sam answer quickly,

“About two blocks down from the library” Sam barley finish his last words before Deans shoulder was pushing him out the way in the rush to getting to the impala.

_I need to find him._

 

The ignition turned, Dean never was one for the rules, didn’t ever agree with the so called speed limits- he always had made his own. But never would he push the limits as far as his foot was going on the gas. Something inside of him, some part of him was exploding, worry and fear radiating through his bones. He was pushing 40mph going on 50mph and there was no stopping him going further. Five minutes down the road find him outside the library, his eyes scan the out stretch of road lying in front, open doors, and shop windows. Seconds was enough and he was out the car, the door slamming behind him.

 

 

Dark and cold, the angel was alone. He was back in that ally-way; when he had left dean, he should have known better, his wings were too weak for flying as it was from not taking flight in so many years. But the extra weight, the extra pressure from the injuries he’s gained, from the cuts and gashes were only making them weaker, heavier.

Castiel lived in the city. A city full of Angel-Haters and people under the impression that ‘Angels’ were freaks, nothing but mutants in society.

His wings couldn’t up hold long distance travel and that found him falling from the sky, ironically, in the one of few places he never wanted to be again, the ally where his friends had turned on him, where he was left for dead, where he could now feel the same fear closing in on his delicate state, leaving him frozen; Knees clutched tight to his core, his head in his knees and his arms and wings-to the best they can- wrap around his legs and body, as if to hold himself together, resembling an almost hedge hog approach to fear and felt danger.

Heavy darkness was falling on the town, the light was fading and only on the streets could you find the glowing of white street lamps. The angel was enclosed in blackness, in the far corner of the ally-way, his body crying as thick fear and dense anguish pulsed through his body, shaking his very vessel as tears bleed from his glassy, azure eyes.

Blinking away the tears, shaking his head in a desperate plead at stopping himself, at stopping the memory his mind was allowing to unfold before him, again.

Mumbles, small, silent cries leave his trembling lips.

Like a broken record player, the same songs over and over; his mind the broken record, the songs; all the hurt and pain.

All the memories of the attack and the memories of Alastair. His mind won't let him forget, it plays it over and over and over again. Every time he dares to close his eyes, every time he is doing good and life seems okay; his mind will press play and then, all the happiness; was trampled all over and destroyed.

 

Dean had double checked every window of every shop and cafe' there was in town.

He had been up and down, and around every street and every corner.

_Where are you Cas?_

_Oh God! ‘Dean’ Why’d you go and ruin everything frightened him away! Now he’s gonna get hurt._   
  


It had been over an hour now, Since the angel had taken flight and fell almost moments after in the hidden, damp and memory drenched ally-way he finds himself in now. Cowering away in the corner, the darkness providing a shield; a blanket of comfort that assured him no one would find him, he was safe.

_I am safe I am safe I am safe_

He mouths, unable to produce sounds through the tightness of his closing throat, every word trying to convince himself he was-in fact-safe.

_I can’t breathe._

Panic settles in his stomach, as it twists and turns in horror. His head's feeling heavy; suddenly lifting it from his knees, where it now hanged is too much of a struggle, all strength drained as blackness began to close in, as the lids of his eyes began to shut.

“Casss!” The voice came from a far, but still he knew it could only belong to one man, Dean.

The angel is fighting with the weight that drags at his eye lids, fighting with the fear that trapping his voice in his throat, fighting with everything that is fighting against him to try and stand up, to just shout back his name.

_Dean_

Still nothing came out.

“Cas!” The voice was closer.

Despite everything, the angel had open his eyes wide now, and his head is held above his shoulders, looking out towards the street; a singular street lamp to the left, lighting up only part of the path beyond the ally.

And there he was.

“Cas” He spoke quieter than before.

Cas shuffles, he opens his mouth and hopes something, Just anything will come out. He crawls from the darkness and towards the other man’s voice. The white glow of the street lamp spot light was on the other man, as the angel continues to pull and push himself towards him.

“Cas” He says once more.

Dean, ready to walk away, suddenly turns and looks down the ally. He hadn’t checked down there yet. The angel had made it half way before his eyes had dragged shut and his body had collapsed to the damp, concrete floor. Exhausted.

 _Thank Christo_! _Dean felt the urge to look down there._

“Cas!” he screams as he runs towards the unconscious man metres before him, and envelopes him in the tight, safe and protective grip of his arms and he lifts him from the ground; Holding the angel close to his chest as if to never let anyone take him away, as if to never let him go.

 

 

A good few hours later is when the angel comes to, a worried and tired dean waiting by the bed side, the first thing the angel sees when his eyes open.

“Dean?” He questioned, “How did I-“

“Get here?” Dean finished. “After you took off, I went looking for you, I was worried.... and you know, so yeah, and found you in that ally-way; luckily. You were pretty shaken up and you must have passed out and well.....I’m just really glad you’re okay.”

Dean did that a lot; he’d start off as honest as can be, showing his fear or his worry and then in the same moment flinch away and under mind the reasons or the emotion behind his actions. Castiel could see straight through that. He could see that even when Dean truly felt something, if it made him seem or look weak? He’d cover it up with a ‘whatever’ and a ‘no big deal’ attitude. But Cas could see.

“You want somethin’ to eat or maybe drink or-“The angel face remained the same, straight and, Dean thinks, cold.

“I am okay, Dean.”

Cas doesn't move from bed, he doesn't sleep either. He just sits and stares; at the never changing walls, and the growing laundry pile in the corner of Dean’s room and out the window across from the bed; it's still autumn, and the trees are now almost bear. Gold’s and orange’s galore litter the garden, the single oak tree found at the bottom of the back yard; leaves, a sea of orange and yellow’s circle around it, burying the roots that lived above the ground.

Dean liked this time of the year. For one it was beautiful, all the colours of not only the fallen leave’s but the sky. How the sun would set during fall was the most stunning off all sunsets, Dean thought; the pinks mixing with the oranges and rusty browns. The second one being quite domestic; he enjoyed raking the fallen leaves, he enjoyed the sounds of the leaves beneath his leather boots, and who can forget all the fun Sam and him have had over the years playing in the piles of leaves. One year they had tricked bobby, Dean had called and said he needed some help with the garden, and that he would have asked Sammy but that he was occupied with ‘Important’ school work. Bobby being the kind man he was had said “Sure thing, Son”

Telling bobby just to meet him out back and that he’d start without him. Sam and Dean hide in the huge pile of leaves centred in their huge back yard. They hid and then....Jumped!

They had scared bobby shitless, giggles had filled the yard as Dean and Sammy fell back onto the pile of leaves, while an unpleased, now rather grumpy looking Bobby, waiting by the side.

“Idjits!”

 

 

Cas has been sitting, and staring for hours now. Dean keeps coming in and checking on him but a cold look from Cas sends him away wishing he never bothered. It was 8:30, his shift at Ellen’s started soon. So getting ready he makes sure Sam and Jess are okay; enough sandwiches and juice, snacks for watching some movies.

A quick, joking glace from Dean to Sam, one which said _‘Don’t do anything I wouldn't do’_ , Sam could tell there was an underlining serious quantity to his stare.

He had hoped to have seen Castiel, out of the room and with some food in him before he had to leave, but the angel still hasn’t moved from Dean’s bed, still sits watching leaves blowing in the autumn winds and falling to the ground.

It surprises Dean; how he could be so still for so long, how the angel could be in silence and gaze at the same view for hours and still look as intrigued and as awe struck though it where the first time.

Grabbing his leather jacket and sliding it over his plaid shirt, he heads out the door. Taking the Impala to Ellen’s.

Jess and Sam sit on the couch, a bigger gap between them than both feel needed and want; both too scared to move closer to the other.

The credits of Toy Story start on the screen. Pop corn- done, sandwiches- demolished, all that was left was a handful of Cola bottles and half empty bottle of Pepsi which sits by their feet on the floor. Jess shuffles, curling her legs onto the couch, her feet accidentally skimming Sam’s close by hand.

A small _‘sorry’_ exits her mouth.

While Jess watches the credits with surprise enthusiasm; she had mentioned earlier she wanted to know the name of a particular song that’s played in the film, Sam assumed that to be why she was concentrating so closely to the end credits of the film.

Sam watches; he watches the way her lips press together, sometimes when she was thinking hard on something, her tongue would stick out and her lips would bite down on it- cute.

He watches the way her hair- her loose golden blonde curls, fall from behind her ear and drape- perfectly-across her face.

He just gazes at the beautiful girl sitting beside him, studying her face- her expression, her eyes always had the effect of drawing him in; like on the first day, at the library, where they meet- he’s been trapped ever since.

The screen goes black; Jess takes a mental note of the song name and then smile.

“Hey, Jess?” Sam calls from the kitchen. He'd taken all the empty bowls where sweets once filled through to the kitchen, pilling them in the sink.

“Yeah?” She calls through, as she pushes up from the couch and began to make her way to him.

“Would you mind if I went and talked to Castiel?” He pauses, seeing her by the door frame,

“It’s just he’s been in dean’s room all day-“ Sam knew something was up, he didn’t know exactly what, but it was something. Sam could sense the self-doubt and hate radiating of Dean, and the angel hadn’t left his room all day- and wasn’t talking to anyone, not even Dean. Jess hadn’t met the angel yet, she hoped too soon. Sam had said how nice of a ‘man’ he was ( Keeping the angel part to himself, he knew of the consequences, hell he’d seen the state of the angels wings from afar, he could only imagine how bad they looked up close.)

“Of course, Sam” A smile playing on her lips. She walks over to the dining table and takes a seat. Taking an apple from the fruit bowl located in the middle of the table and takes a bite.

“I’ll just wait here.” Smiling through her second bite from the apple.

“Thanks “Sam starts, “won’t be too long.” He assures.

 

Castiel had moved since earlier, he still sits on the bed, but now a book is in his hands. He had, during the movie, left Dean’s room on search for something to read, and found something that tickled his interest. It was a book called ‘Supernatural’; he had only read a chapter, maybe two when a knock came at the door.

“Can I come in?” It was Sam. The angel debates whether or not to answer, he wasn’t in the mood for social conversions, he was enjoying the well-needed alone time. Five seconds later the answer came.

“You may come in...” Sam slowly presses the door open.

The younger Winchester wastes no time. He closes the door and sits down next to the angel on the bed, who sits crossed legged, the book open in his lap.

“How are you, Castiel?” The younger boy questions. His eyes full of concern for the angel in front of him.

“I’m okay, Sam” He speaks in a matter-of-a-fact tone. Dean had asked him that today, 48 time’s if his memory serves him correct, and he had gotten either a blank, emotionless stare in return or a simple, “I’m fine, Dean”.

“Cas?” The angel looked up from the book in his hands, “Look, Castiel, I can see that you’re not. I can also see that my brother isn’t either.” Pausing to give the angel a comforting expression.

“I don’t know what’s happened or what’s gone on, but, what I do know is Dean is blaming himself for it.” Sam noticed the expression on the angels face turn from emotionless and blank to confused.

_Why is Dean blaming himself, what does he think he’s done?_

_Does he think I’m upset with him? But why?_

Sam continued...

“Look, I know my brother better than anyone- sometimes better than him. He’s been worried all day about you, well, since you got back last night...Like I said, I don’t really know what happened with all that but he blames himself...”

_This isn’t dean’s fault._

_I’ve been so stupid; I’ve made him think it’s his fault_

Castiel's head dropped,

“Castiel, would- Oh! My! God!, Is that ‘Supernatural’?!” The boys face beams with excitement as he waits for the angel to answer, catching a glimpse of the book in his lap.

“Yes-I...I’m sorry for taking it, I presume it’s yours?” Sam’s smile was getting brighter and bigger, stretching across his face.

“No, Castiel, I don’t mind-Oh my god this is great!” Castiel’s face went from relieved to confusion, his head tilting to the side and his eye brows furrowing, analysing the enthusiasm on the young Winchester face.

“I don’t understand, Sam. Why are you so happy?” Sam just let out a giggle, he always found it funny how the angel was so smart, yet couldn’t grasp the understanding of human emotions, well, not entirely.

“It’s my—its mine and Jess' favourite book, like in the world! Would you like to come through and meet her? She’s quite looking forward to meeting you.”

The angel appreciated the invitation and accepted following behind Sam to the living room, where Jess had found her set again on the couch.  
  


Walking down the hall Castiel starts to feel something- a gut feeling, like he's sensing something but he just can't tell what or for that matter why? The closer to the living room they get, the heavier the feeling in his stomach, like a weight being pulled down by gravity.

Angels didn’t have powers as such, that was very rare but heightened senses were common in most.

Like, some angels can sense how other are feeling, some can see what other are thinking, there was even suspicion that some could sense when another angel was near. But Castiel never had any of that, he was an angel, but unlike his brothers and sisters; who between them all had most kinds of expected abilities, Castiel was the only one who never did. Gabriel had said on a few occasions where it had gotten Cas down that he just needed to wait, that for some angels it happens later rather than sooner.

Most angels discover their abilities at the age of 15, making Castiel 3 years late.

The gut feeling was getting stronger, twisting and toughing in his stomach. In his ear there was a slight, very quiet, high pitched noise.

It hovered in his head, like a bee buzzing in his ear drums.

Every step found the noise modulating, the pitch bending higher and soon it was ringing in his ears....

Then, Nothing.  
  


“Jess, this is Castiel, Castiel, this is Jess” As Sam is speaking he gestures his hands between him and Jess, Jess turns her head on the couch and stands from it, walking around and towards Sam and Castiel.

“Hi” She smiles, extending her hand, “and you already know my name so, yeah, it’s really good to meet you, Castiel.” Castiel accepted her hand, “You too, Jess”.

Castiel finds himself fixing his gaze upon the young girl, Jessica.

He studies her.

All the ringing in his head had finally stopped and the feeling that had drenched his stomach, gone.

“So? Jess, guess what Castiel started reading?” Trying to ignore the prolonged gaze the angel and his girlfriend where sharing and the awkwardness that was filling the room; like a sink, the awkwardness poured in, filling it up so much until, Sam, decided it was time to pull the plug. Snapped out of her thoughts, Jess answers, “What?!”

“Supernatural!” He shouts, while Jessica’s face starts to glow with excitement, Sam’s face gleams with a bright smile.

“I haven’t read too much, yet. But I am enjoying it and am finding the character Deanna to be my favourite of the two sisters.” He spoke with a matter-of-a-fact tone.

“Oh boy! wait till you meet Destiel! That’s when it gets really good and interesting!” The conversation continues like that for some time; with Jess and Sam telling Castiel all about their favourite characters and storylines out of all the books. Castiel asked questions and they both answer, sometimes together, at once, and sometimes they’d finished each other’s sentences. Castiel found that to be beautiful and a sign of how they were just meant to be, a match made in heaven he thinks.

 

Down in town, Dean’s shift at Ellen is going slow. It was 11:30,“One more hour too go” He groans, wiping down the bar bench with a damp cloth.

A clutter of laughter is heard as a group of three girls enter the bar; they stutter over to the bar and take their seats one by one. After lines and lines of shots and countless and harmless flirtatious comments later, dean decides they are too drunk and need to get home; he calls them a cab and convinces them all to do as he suggests. That makes the end of his shift, closing times. Ellen had left early to go and see a friend, Pamela, and Jo was at Ashes.

Ellen had given him the keys for locking up; he had another shift tomorrow so he’d drop them off then. He wipes down all the tables and puts the chairs on top afterwards, he checks the toilets; that they were empty and clean-ish. He locks up and heads home.

Finally.

 


	8. The perfect Picture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for staying with me this long!
> 
> So, this chapter is short and sweet :)

 

The drive home is less than half an hour and he fills the silence with guitar leads and drum beats blasting out the speakers, he sings along and taps his fingers along the steering wheel to Asia and then Kansas. When he pulls up to his house, he sits in the car; he turns the music off, but silence doesn't fill his head.

He can't help the worry;

_Hell I hope Cas is okay, this is all my fault- if I hadn’t kissed him he wouldn’t have ran off..._

_God, I’ve messed everything up._

His worry fest over, he finds the courage to get out of the car and heads for the door.

He figures, gathering everything that happened today that; Jess and Sam would be crashed out on the couch or they’d went to bed- so either way, asleep. He also assumes Castiel to still be locked away in his room, which brought a frown to the older Winchester as turns the key in the door and pushes it open.

 

It was a perfect picture; like he had painted it himself.  
  


Sam and Castiel sit besides one another on the couch, and Jess sits by both their feet on some pillows on the floor. The television is switched on but is on mute and two small lamps are lighting up the room along with the smiles of the angel, his brother, and Jessica. Dean’s sad demeanour melts away instantly and a smile decorated his face. His green eyes fill with joy and love; for the people sat before him, for his family. Sam, the first to notice his arrival gives Castiel a look. He and Jess took their leave to bed after saying their good nights.

Castiel waits silently on the couch, and Dean makes his way over and takes a seat beside him.

“Hello, Dean.” His gaze fixed at his feet.

Dean takes the angels hand in his own, soon finding a pattern in rubbing the angels knuckles gently.

“Hey, Cas” He doesn't have a clue what to say. He’d thought about the angel all day; about the kiss...about everything that had followed after, he was sure this was all his fault. He was sure that he’d scared Cas of and that it was his fault Cas ended back up in that damn ally-way. He’d been kicking himself mentally all day.

“Dean, this is not your fault.” He speaks matter of a fact.

_Dean is confused, I mean, how could it not be?_

The angel had been with him for three weeks, he’d lost everyone he ever trusted and was finding it hard to find trust in Dean...and he knew that.

And yet he lunged in and kissed him? Then he flies away? It couldn’t be more obvious to Dean.

He scared the angel away and it was his fault he ended up, again, in that dark ally.

 

“Why do you think this is your fault?” Castiel asks. He doesn’t understand why the elder brother thought this.

“Cas...I shouldn’t of kissed you...I-I’m sorr-“he was cut off.

“Dean. If you regret kissing me then....That’s okay...” He sounds disappointed? Dean is feeling even more confused.

“But you need to know that this was not your fault; me flying away, that was me, not you.” The angel was looking straight into his eyes when those word touched air.

Absorbing the man’s expression, trying to figure out what he was thinking- feeling.

“Dean, there are things that I will not speak about, Things I do not wish to talked about with anyone.

But please listen to me when I say, this was not your fault. I know it may seem to you like it is, but there are things you don’t know... I came to realise earlier that I made you feel as though it was you, and I apologise for that.” Dean just drops his head.

He wanted to know why Cas felt the need to run, to fly away.

But he understood, the angel didn’t want to talk and he would never, ever make him.

“Cas...” He lifts his head...

“Please don’t run of like that again...You...You really scared me and...” He begins to go quite.

Castiel knew it had taken a lot for the older brother to reveal his feelings, he wasn’t one for ‘chick flick moments’ and would rather bottle it all up and let it eat away inside at him.

“I know Dean, I’m sorry...I won’t do it again.” He reassures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Aoiveae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg! 20,000 words +  
> Can't believe I've written this much :D  
> Really hope y'all are enjoying the story so far, a lot is yet to come! 
> 
> Please leave commenst, kudos and share!

 

Dean and the angel are happy.

Castiel feels safe for the first time in a really long time, he feels safe with Dean.   
Dean simply feels happy again, or finally.

More days are full of laughter and joy, love and a new found hope; they are both finally Happy, because of one another. There was a part in both of them that feared this happiness; every time each of them had gotten close to feeling good it was ripped away leaving them to fall, Cas didn’t want to fall, and Dean wasn’t going to let him.  
  


The angel lets out a groan drenched with sleep as he rolls over in his bed stretching his arms, not expecting to find an empty, cold space were Dean should have been waiting for him to wrap his arms tightly around; like he would do ever other morning. Today though, Dean he had gotten up an hour before, and seeing that Cas looked so peaceful sleeping, he decided to leave him asleep for a while longer, and he had went down stairs to start their breakfast. Letting out another sleepy and disappointed groan to Dean’s absence, he pulls himself out of bed and drags himself down stairs to the kitchen.  
  


Dean is still in the kitchen, fixing up a fitting breakfast for him, Cas and Sam; they could barley ever agree on any type of food to eat, whether it be for breakfast, lunch or dinner. Sam with his green rabbit foods, and Dean, with just about anything that was drowned in grease or fat. Cas, he was somewhere in between.

But today was Sunday, Deans favourite day.

They all had agreed that Sunday would be like a treat day; if it was up to Dean everyday would be like a Sunday. The angel had been with them for just under three months now. Everything was settling down; Dean was okay with his feeling for the angel; accepting that there was nothing wrong with having feelings for another man.

Although he was really glad his dad wasn’t about, considering the first and last time dean had maybe even liked a boy he was beaten black and blue and lectured for months; _‘it’s not right dean!’....’it’s not normal!’...’my son will not be some faggot!’._

Castiel’s nightmares had stopped, well, they were...dormant for the time being.

Sam and Jessica were now together and spent every minute they could together; and ‘Friday movie marathon night’ went from the two of them to the four. Dean didn’t mind. He was glad to see his little brother happy, and because most of the time they were at Jesses or the library, little nerds they were, it meant he had time alone with Cas.

They would watch movies and listen to music.

Dean was teaching the angel about decent music, educating him on his endless collection of timeless rock classics.

Castiel grew up listening to The Beatles, they were his brother Gabriel’s favourite and soon became his as well as a child.

His favourite song was ‘hey Jude’, and he would sing it all the time. Dean’s music background was a little different he came to learn. He was brought up with the likes of Led Zeppelin and Def Leppard, the timeless rock bands of the 1970’s and 80’s.

Dean’s dad had raised him with his taste of music, and well, his mum wasn’t alive to share hers, not after he was four anyways.  
  
  


Dean is standing at the sink finishing of the dishes when Castiel enters. He wraps his arms around Dean tightly surprising him from behind, resting his head gently on his shoulder,

“Morning” He whisper in his ear. Dean shivers and turns around in his arms, facing the angel.

“Morning baby” He pecks his lips with a small kiss, Cas smiles into the kiss.

Dean turns back around to continue cleaning the dirty dishes, while Castiel places himself at the table.

After breakfast Sam is quick in getting dressed and makes his way over to Jessica’s house.

She didn’t live too far away; a mile or two in the direction of town would find you at her house.

 

Dean is on the couch endorsed in the television screen; some programme about space and this thing called a star gate or something, Cas wasn’t really sure, but Dean seems to like it. Dean is lying sprawled out across the couch, when Castiel comes over he pulls his legs closer to his body giving angel space to sit down before returning his legs over the angels lap, Cas just smiles and gave a quite sigh.

“What are we watching dean? I gather that it has something to do with a...Stargate? And that there are...” Dean just let out a laugh.

“Cas...It’s called Stargate, it’s like the best show...ever!” He protests, as if Cas had said otherwise.

Dean sits up from his slugged position on the couch and continues,

“Its’ about this military team called SG-1, there part of this secret government agency who were formed to explore these things called stargates...hence the name” He smiled pointing to the television screen “her name his Major Samantha Carter....and his name is Colonel Jack O’Neil” He continued, telling the angel about his favourite episodes and characters- “That’s Teal’c, he’s a Jaffa warrior from a planet called Chulak-“ Castiel is just staring at the man before him, in amazement.

He loves seeing Dean so happy and interest in something, he talks about this show with so much passion, _so adorable_ , Castiel thinks.

Castiel sits and watches the next few episodes with Dean; they cuddled up on the couch.

Castiel asks question after question, then more questions after the answers.

“So what is a....a Goa’uld, then? Teal’c is a Jaffa...But I don’t understand how can the Jaffa and Goa’uld be the same people?” Dean explains it to Cas and he just laughs, he was really getting into this. “So the Jaffa are genetically modified human beings....”Pausing to make sure he had gotten that part right, Dean just gives him a smile and nod.

“And they have this...pouch in there abdominal?” Dean nodded again. "And the larval Goa’uld uses it as an Incubator...and it grants the Jaffa enhanced strength, health and healing abilities?” Another nod and smile his way.

After Cas, Dean thinks, has asked every question imaginable under the sun, they grab some lunch at a cafe’ in town. Castiel hadn’t been back to town since that night he flew off and landed up in that ally way. But he was with Dean and that made him feel safe.

 

They decided that after lunch they would go to the shops and, first of buy some food, but then go and get Castiel some clothes of his own.

As much as he loved the feeling of being in Deans clothes, and as much as dean loved seeing him wearing them, he needed some of his own.

Later on that night; Sam was staying over at Jessica’s and Dean and Cas find themselves in the kitchen- both them and their surrounding coated in flour as the smell of cherry pie fills the air, as it cooks away in the oven. It wasn’t surprising to Cas that Dean knew how to cook pie, hell, it was all he ate.

Dean tells Cas about how when he was younger and his mum would bake pie, from Cherry to apple, to lemon and banana.

Cas loved hearing Dean talk about his mum, he didn’t do it very often, though. Castiel understood that it was a sore subject for dean, so he never asked any questions, just took was he got. All the angel knew was that his mum was an angel as well, and that she died in a house fire when dean was four.  
  


With the pie out of the oven and cooling down, Dean had an idea.

“Hey Cas, follow me” Dean pulls Castiel by the arm and lead him out back to the garden. It's cold, and the sky is clear; you can see all the burning bight stars and all the consolations they make, it's beautiful.

Dean grabs Castiel and pulls him down beside him, and they lie on their backs on the grass, staring in complete awe at the night sky and the stars that dance like fire flies in the darkness.

“Aoiveae” Deans speaks.

“What did you just say?”

“Aoiveae” He repeats, “It means stars...at least I'm sure it does.”

“I didn’t know you spoke Enochian?” Castiel was taken aback by Dean’s knowledge of the language.

He’d never known a human to have known it or even heard of it; it was an ancient and just about dead language, only angels spoke it and even then most of them only knew a few words.

“You have heard of it?” The angel speaks out loud his surprise.

“My mum, she taught it to me when I was younger. I can’t remember that much of it just a few words here and there. When we moved in with Bobby he had a few books about angels, I learned some more words from them.”

“My brother Gabriel taught me, I’m not fluent, but I know quite a bit” Gabriel was three years older than Castiel. He would sit with Cas on late Sunday afternoons and teach him different words and meanings, Castiel picked it up quite quickly, but being an angel meant that it was easier for him.

“So Is Gabriel, is he an angel too?” Dean never had asked about Castiel’s family, not really.

Castiel had told him he didn’t speak with them and the only one he ever talked about was Gabriel.

“Yeah, all my family are angel’s...”He whispers.

“I don’t get it then...I thought they left you because you were an angel?” Dean was confused to say the least.

He had figure it was because he was an angel his family had abandoned him and kicked him out...what else could it have been?

“Dean...I” He's not sure know what to say. He’s never told anyone any of this, and he isn't ready too, not yet.

“Look, man, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to...its fine” Noticing the sigh of relief in the angels chest, and the quite mumble of a ‘thank you’ Dean asks another question

“Do you know the word for moon?”

“Graa”

“I think I remember that one, it sounds familiar” He smiles.

Castiel smiles too.

“So how about we go in and eat this pie, then we can watch a film and go to bed?” He stands up from the grass pulling Castiel up with him.

And that’s exactly what they do.

They demolished the cherry pie, cuddled on the couch as Ironman plays on the TV screen and they fall asleep; Cas wrapped up in Deans arms.

 


	10. The Little Angel

 

“Cas?”

The angel sniffs as he wakes, hazy eyes finding Deans. Dean is on his side, wedged between the back of the couch, and _Cas._   
One of Castiel’s arm is slung around Dean’s shoulder, hand draped behind his back, their legs a knotted mess of shorts and blankets. Dean's arm is hung around Castiel's waist, gently holding him.   
  
They had fallen asleep on the couch, _again_.   
  
This was becoming habit; cuddling up on the couch to catch up on TV or to watch a rented movie, which always lead to unhealthy hours of binge watching. Dean looked down at Castiel with slight urgency, making Castiel's eyes widen, blinking quickly.

“What's wrong, Dean?” he asked, concern laced in his voice.

“I need to pee.”

Castiel looked at him, abruptly relaxing again against Deans chest, “You woke me up for that?” he jokes,

“Well, I figured I’d wake you up trying to untangle myself..."

Castiel blinks. He considers the options and fights back a yawn. "But, it's so early Dean!" He moans, tugging Dean closer, beginning to fall asleep once again.

“Caaaaasss! ” Dean groans, playfully jagging his finger into the angels side, earning a squeak from the angel.   
  
Dean was quick to realise that the angel was in fact ticklish and he pokes and wriggles his fingers at Castiel’s sides and by his armpits.  
Castiel attempts to draw back, but his laughter has him shaky; they wind up tumbling over and of the couch and then directly to the floor, Dean hovering over Castiel. Within a few seconds, Castiel is a giggling mess. His eyes are teary and he is laughing so hard he's hardly making any audible noises anymore.   
Castiel’s current state has Dean laughing himself and he is completely sidetracked by the beautiful angel beneath him, that he is too slow to catch the hand that had launched out at his side in retaliation.   
The high pitched noise of utter surprise that comes from him is beyond embarrassing as he flinches away, but he has no time to dwell on it as another hand attacks him from the other side. “  
  
Apparently, you are too.” Castiel grins.   
  
"Alright! I really need to pee, Cas!" He yelps, Castiel pushes Dean of off him and swiftly turns them over, straddling Deans waist, pinning him down, a hand on either side of his face, a smug smile playing on his lips.   
  
"Come on, Cas!" He begs, unsure of how much longer he could hold out. Castiel leans down and places a chaste kiss upon Dean's lips, before slowly sitting back up and rolling of off him, taking a place on the floor, on his back, besides him. Castiel lies there as Dean hurries to the toilet, catching his breath from the excitement of the tickle fight that had quickly broken out a few minutes previous.   
  
A smile is still possessing his lips when Dean returns, standing above him and looking down at the blushing angel.   
  
"We need to get ready to go into town, Jess' bringing her choice of movie over, and we need to buy in all the junk food we can eat" he laughs, thinking back to all the other movie marathon's, and how, basically all the food, ended up gobbled down by his brother.

 

...

 

It was finally Jess' turn to choose the movie, and the fact that the choices where endless almost made it impossible for her to choose.   
"Hey Sam" she greets her boyfriend on the other end of the line,   
  
"What's up?"   
  
"Dean's heading into town with Cas to stock up on snacks for the movie, just wondering if you've one chosen yet?" He finishes with a giggle, knowing fine well that she was struggling to choice between all her favorites'.   
  
"Very funny, Sam, I was thinking 'The Little Angel'?" She asks nervously, the subject of Angels hasn't exactly come up with Sam or With Dean and Cas.   
  
"I mean, we could watch 'The Amazing Spiderman' if that's a better choice?" she quickly adds.   
  
"Jess, 'The Little Angel' is fine, I really like that film." he says smiling, though Jess can't see,   
  
"Are you okay, Jess?" Sam had noticed that she had been acting...different lately; unusually nervous, and if he didn't know any better, he would have honestly believed that she could read his mind sometimes.  
  
"Yeah, Sam, I'm okay" She answers, quietly. Sam doesn't believe a word, but he would never force her to tell him anything, he would wait for her to be ready.  
  
"Sam?" her voice coming across strong,   
  
"Yeah?" He could hear her mumbling beneath her breath, practically feel the anxiety pulsing through the phone,   
  
"How do you feel about Angels?" She rushes, each word closer to the next,   
  
"I've just- we've never talked about our views on that and-" She rambles on, only stopping when Sam's voice comes across the line,   
  
"Honestly Jess, I don't see them any different to how I see you and myself. Me, _and_ Dean," He adds, trying to ensure her that he and Dean both believed the same," believe in equal rights for Angels, those _sick_ hunter boil my blood something awful" He finishes, a sigh leaving Jess' mouth as her worried melted away. "Me too. Me too, Sam." She smiles, "Good, I'm glad" he replies. "Do you want to hang out before the movie?"   
  
"'Course!" He answered,   
"See you in an hour?" He proposed,   
"Sure!" and the call ends with a set of _love you's_.  
  


 

The younger Winchester sits down for breakfast before heading back to his room to change into a pair of denim jeans and red plaid shirt, and makes his way out the door beginning his walk into town to Jess' house. He makes it to town in record speed, in just under half an hour, and find himself outside Jess' house ten minutes later, knocking on the door.   
  
The door swings open reviling the beautiful blonde in the door frame, She is relatively small, only about 5ft tall usually, if you ignore the three inch brown boots she's wearing. She is wearing a simple black cotton vest top, with a purple and blue plaid shirt hanging loose on her shoulders. Light blue skinny jeans completing the basic and modest choice of clothing. _God she is so beautiful_ , Sam thinks, unable to hold back the smile curling at his lips.   
  
"You want to come in?" Snapping the boy out of his thoughts, he nods, following her into the house, kicking his boots of on the mat by the door.   
"So, my parents are away out, and I was wondering if we could, maybe, talk?"

_Oh no_

Sam's mind starts to run wild, questioning everything he has ever said to her, _God, she'd going to break up with me!? What did I do wrong?_  
  


"Sam, you don't have to worry." Her voice coming through the haze of his thoughts, strong,   
  
"I just want to tell you something." all his previous worries replaced by the new one that something _was_ wrong with Jess.   
  
"Are _you_ okay?" His eyes conveying his worry and care,   
  
"Of course I am Sam, I just feel like I can trust you with something...kind of big, and wanted you to know before tonight." Her words seem to relax him, and he follows her through to the living room, to the couch, both taking their seats.   
  
"There was this Angel, named James" She pauses, glancing towards a picture hung upon the wall, seemingly of her father, "he fell in love with a human named Julie, but the relationship between an angel and a human, as you know, is frowned upon, and their families didn't exactly agree." Sam nods, he can see the girl struggling to find the words, he reaches over taking her hands in his, squeezing gently,   
  
"they decided to run away because Julie was pregnant with the angels baby and they knew their families would never tolerate such a... _thing"_ That's when the tears fell from her eyes, Sam naturally pulls her into a tight hug,   
  
"Jess, why are you telling me this?" He asks, though he is sure of the answer he was about to receive,   
  
"Sam, I'm the... _thing!_ " she cries, grasping onto the fabric of the young Winchester shirt. "I've been so afraid to tell you, but with my wings growing bigger and my abilities starting to appear...I knew I would have to tell you and I understa-" She stops as Sam pulls away, looking into his eyes to grasp an idea of what the boy is thinking, "Jess, you're amazing!" He cheers, "I told you I don't think any different of Angels, do you trust me?" He asks, an idea in mind. Jess shifts in her seat, and a smile replaces the blank expression on her face, "'Course I do Sam!" "Then will you come to my house and talk with Dean and me?" He knew that was a big ask, but Dean could explain everything better to her, and then Cas could comfort her in knowing that she really was safe with the Winchesters around. "I...O-Okay" Her voice was unsure, "I trust you, Sam."

 

...

 

Dean and Cas had driven into town early and found themselves in a small cafe' in the heart of town. Afterwards, they headed to the market filling their basket with all the sweet and unhealthy snack foods their eyes could see; popcorn, cola bottles, chips, chocolate, and obviously Cola.   
Paying and leaving swiftly for the car to make it out of town before the lunch time rush clogged up the streets of town.

They had gotten back roughly twenty minutes before Sam was announcing his and Jess' arrival,  
  
"Hey Dean! That's me back, with Jess" He adds, "Can you and Cas come through to the living room?" He yells through to the kitchen where his brother and the angel were putting away the groceries.  
  
"Sure! Be through in a few!" He shouts back through, putting the last bag of chips in the cupboard and closing the door.   
  
They walk through to the adjoining room to find Sam and the young girl sitting on the furthest away couch, suddenly, the weight was back; sinking in the angels gut, the noise was ringing once again in his ears. It wasn't overwhelmingly loud, but the ringing was beginning to bring on a head ache, resonating in his eardrums.   
  
Then it clicked.  
  
Gabriel said some angels powers development later rather than sooner in some, maybe his were finally developed or in-development?   
  
Cas had always assumed that he was one of the angels that weren't luckily enough to have developed any abilities and he had settled on that reality. But he thought about it; about what else it could be, and if it where his abilities- what one/s did he have? Was this one of them telling him something, when he touches the young girls hand, greeting her with a handshake, the noise intensifies; that strong, un-ignorable gut feeling twisting like nerves in his stomach, and he just knew.   
  
"Me and Jess have something we want to tell you" He starts, giving Dean a knowing look, and then Jess an encouraging one. She shifts nervously in her place,   
  
"I..I'm a-" She stops, Castiel then knew what his ability was,   
  
"She's an Angel" Castiel speaks, the eyes of everyone in the room landing on him,   
  
"I think my abilities have finally surfaced." He answers their unspoken questions,   
  
"Wait? You're an _angel_?" Jess was utterly taken aback by the news, completely understanding now why Sam had insisted on them coming here and taking with Dean and Cas.   
  
"Yes" He replied, "not a good example of one though" he adds, frowning.   
  
"I can believe this!" She cheers,   
  
"Why not?" The angel questions tilting his head, confused.   
  
"I just, knowing another angel, that's amazing!" Sam took her hand, smiling at her, "Well, one that's not family." she admits.  
  
"Dean? Are you okay to tell them about...about mom? About us?" Sam asked, hesitantly. "I just, I want Jess to know, and you know the story, I was too young to remember much.." He adds.   
  
Dean wasn't one for talking about his past, any of it really, though this part the most. Castiel had gained little knowledge on Deans past when it came to his family and his mother. He shifts in his seat, adjusting his position, moving forwards to the edge of the couch, and he takes a deep inhale of air, before slowly releasing, his ridged shoulders tense with what can only be assumed as a mix of nervousness, anxiety, and utter discomfort in discussing this particular part of his past. Dean looks to Sam and gives a subtle nod,   
  
"So, our mom was an angel, and our dad, well, he wasn't." He starts, leaning forwards, resting his elbows upon his knees bringing his head down between them.   
  
"When I was four, Sammy here was just six months old, there was a fire...Our house was set on fire by a group of angel hunters" Continuing to hide his face, keeping his view towards the ground, as he continues to speak Castiel places a gentle hand on his thigh, squeezing, "That night I carried Sammy out the house, flames blazing and my dad, he tried so hard to get to our mom out but there was just no way in..." His voice breaks, a single tear falling down his cheek but he wipes it away continuing, "They killed her because she was an angel, and they destroyed my family. Dad was never the same after that night, none of us were." He finishes lifting his head, feeling shameful for crying- for showing weakness.   
  
"Dean, you never told me that you were the one who got me out." Sam voice was shaky,   
  
"thank you."   
  
"For what?" Dean asks, "For always being there for me, for always looking after me."

"It's nothing Sammy, you know I'd do anything for you." He smiles through his tears,   
  
"Anyways! How about I leave you," Looking at Jess, "and Cas here to chat about... _angel_ things, and me and Sammy will start tidying up this dump. Then we can get on with watching the movie." He jokes, after all that was the Winchester way; don't show your feelings, and if you do cover them up with humour.   
  
Dean doesn't wait for any answers, he just stands and walks back into the kitchen,   
  
"Jess, I'm just gonna-" He gestures towards Deans direction,  
  
"Yeah, on you go." She smiles, worry drained from her mind. Her and Cas talk for a while; they talk about their wings, and their abilities, and Jess talks more about her parents, and Cas says so much without really reviling anything at all about his. He talks about his elder brother Gabriel, and his younger sister Anna, but no others names are thrown into the mix. She questions the older angel on his abilities and how he learned to control the visibility of his wings.   
  
He had answered with all the knowledge that his mind harboured;   
  
"How did you learn to hide your wings? I find it so hard sometimes, there growing so big and its harder." she admits,   
  
"I have spent a lot of time alone, a lot of years by myself. I would practice reviling them and hiding them, and over time I got quite good at it." She had giving him a sympathetic look, gathering that he has spent much of his life alone, "  
  
Practice it is!" She exclaims, "When did you start to get your abilities? Mine are just starting to...appear, sometimes I can sense what Sam is feeling." Castiel frowns,   
  
"My abilities are...very new to me. I am only beginning to learn how to use mine as well, I can sense other angels it seems." She nods her head.   
  
  
  
When Sam gets through to the kitchen Dean has started filling the sink with soapy water, and is beginning to wash the stack of plates and cups piled up by the side.   
  
"I'll wash, you dry?" He says breaking the silence, "Yeah, alright" Sam agrees, and he grabs a towel from the drawer and picks up the first washed plate waiting on the draining rack. Its goes on like this for a while, silent, awkward, neither brothers knowing what he should said to the other about what had just happened.   
  
Sam has just found out that Dean had literally pulled him from a fire.   
  
And Dean was struggling with the fact that he had not only just told the story of how his mother died to Cas and Jess, but also with the whole 'crying in front of them', which was something he was taught never to do.

 

The dishes are quickly washed, dried and put away, and the house is cleaned; the clean washing put away in drawers, dirty washing in the washing machine, garbage bad taking out side, and floors swept. The house was bearable again.   
  
When Sam joins Jess and Cas once again they are still deep in conversation, "Jess, do you speak any Enochian?" Castiel asks, Jess sighs,  
  
"I'm afraid not Castiel, see my mom can't speak Enochian, and my Dad hasn't been around for some time, I never gotten the chance to really learn. Do you?"   
  
" I speak it very well" He answers, "Sam, I hear that you can speak a little?" He inquires, the younger Winchester nods,  
  
"A little, yeah" He smiles, "Dean knows a little too".   
  
Dean joins them, bringing through the munchies for the movie, "Right! Ready to start this marathon?!" He cheers, obviously putting the earlier situation behind him.   
  
"Yeah!" They all cheer.   
  
  
When the end credits roll, Jess is curled up in Sam's lap, her head resting on his thighs, his head is lying on the arm of the couch.   
  
Cas is asleep in a nest of pillows on the floor under layers of blankets.  
  
Dean moves from the couch careful not to make any noise that would wake them up. He fetched a blanket and place sit over Sam and Jessica, smiling at the image before him. He debates on leaving Cas on the floor in his nest of pillows but when Cas stirs and mumbles something about wanting to cuddle he kneels down and scoops the angel up in his arms holding him close to his chest. He lifts with his knees and heads up the stairs with Cas in his strong arms and places him gently in their bed before crawling under the covers himself and wrapping his arms around the angel.   



	11. The Offers There

 

 

Sam and Jess were closer; after finding out Jess was an angel the apprehension she felt around him diminished and security took its place. Though she still hasn't shown the younger brother her wings. He's asked several times now, begged almost, she'd told him; "Sam, I promise, soon okay?"  
He let it go after that, patience didn't come easy to Sam but he'd wait for Jess.  
  
As the weeks went on, Jess and Castiel grew closer too.  
She began to look up to him, like a brother she never had, and to him she was like the sister he'd missed out on after he was disowned by his own family. Anna was only little when Castiel left, he's probably just a name without a face to her.  
  
"Hey, Cas?!" Dean calls.  
  
The angel's eyes blink open slowly, adjusting to the bright glow seeping through their bedroom window.  
  
"Yyyyeaahh!" He yawns, sitting up and leaning against the beds head.  
  
"Jess called. Said she'll be a little later for practice today. Something about a school club she needs to go to." He tells him, walking over to the bed where the angel hides beneath a pillow. Dean grabs the pillow, yanking it swiftly away from the sleepy angel.  
  
"Deeaann!" He moans, "It's too bright!" He protests.  
  
He really wasn't a morning person if the scowl on his face said anything.  
  
"Come on Angel, time to get up!" He chants, bringing the pillow down on the angel earning a yelp.  
  
"Fine, I'm getting up!" He gives up, opening his eyes and turning to the older brother to be greeted by a wide toothy grin.  
  
Castiel follows Dean looking like something off The Walking Dead and takes a seat at the dining table, "Here." Dean hands him a hot mug of coffee, "Milk with two sugers." Castiel smiles, smelling the hot coffee before taking a small sip,  
  
"Ouch! Too hot!" Dean lets out a throaty laugh, his whole body moving with the sound, head tilting back.  
  
"I did just make it Cas." He chuckles. "How is Jess doing anyways?" He asks.  
  
"She's doing really well. She's getting better at showing and hiding her wings, and her abilities are developing quickly."  
  
"That's good. So what colour are her wings?" He chirps. Castiel sighs, "You know I can't tell you that Dean. She hasn't even told Sam yet..." He states.  
  
Jess was self conscious about her wings, similar to Cas.  
Though Cas himself didn't understand why, her wings were attractive ,traditional.  
  
His were, well even his own kind hated them. They were tattered and scarred, and a repulsive polluted black. When puberty revealed his wings to be dark, they had hoped as he grew they would lighten to a golden brown or even into a cerulean blue but when they got darker instead that hope vanished.  
They forced him to hide his wings, prohibited him from telling or showing others saying they would think them to be unattractive, think him to be a disgrace, that he would bring dishonour to his family.  
Which is precisely what his family viewed him as; he was an outcast from the moment his wings developed, shunned and kept concealed away from everyone like some sort of common monster.  
  
"Cas?" His voice quiet, "Do you think..that you'd show me your..." He pauses as the angel lifts his head from mug held in his hands, "show me your wings?" He finishes.  
  
The older brother had only seen the angels wings twice, the first time being when he found him on the side of the road and back at his house. The second being when he flew away and Dean found him in that Alley-way; not exactly _good_ memories.  
  
He knew Castiel's wings were vast, black and his mind thinks, beautiful, angelic, strong...  
  
"Dean..." He signs, frowning, "I-My wings aren't...nice wings." He states it like a fact. "They are damaged and dirty...and ugly." Deans eyes go wide, taken aback by the angel words.  
  
"Is that really what you think?" He questions, surprised.  
  
"Yes Dean. It's true. My family disowned me because of them. And now, they're covered in scars and need to be clean and-" He tries to continue,  
  
"Cas your wings are beautiful!" He declares. Standing up from his chair and walking over to the angel, "There huge and strong and I bet they look amazing all groomed and cleaned." He wraps his arms around the angel from behind his chair, Castiel leans into the touch, tilting his back to look up at the man behind him. Dean places a small kiss on his lips, the angel smiling as he does.  
  
"If..If you wanted I could help you groom them?" He asks, surprising himself with the question.  
  
Angel grooming was reserved for family or a partner, someone the angel was very close to. He and Castiel were close, and although they kissed and cuddled a lot they hadn't exactly put a name on anything yet.  
  
_What even was he to Cas?_  
  
"You would do that?" The angel replies, awe struck.  
  
"'Course I would! I was too scared to ask you, but I know that there bothering you. I mean, when I seen them the feathers where all over the place and there was so much blood." He sighs, thinking about the damage to the beautiful angel's wings.  
  
"It can't be comfortable Cas."  
  
"They're not." He admits. "I can't reach all the feathers and I don't- didn't have anyone to help me."  
  
"Okay!" Dean cheers, "I will help you." He smiles brightly.  
  
"Later Dean, Jess will be here in an hour and I need to shower." His reply causes the man to huff, _impatient just like his brother_ Castiel thinks.

 

 

Showered, clean, and dressed Castiel answers the door to the young blonde and invites her into the living room. Both brothers where out allowing them the space and time. Dean was at bobby giving a few cars a tune up, Sam was at still at the library where Jess had left him.  
  
"Hello Jess." He greets.  
  
"Hey Cas." She sits down on the couch, "Can I ask you something?" She questions, shrugging of her jacket onto the couch.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Okay so Sam really wants to see my wings and he keeps asking. I do want to show him, I trust him but... How did Dean react when he saw your wings?"  
  
"Dean has only seen my wing twice. Both times weren't very pleasant circumstances and my wings were- are a mess. I'm very ashamed of my wings, and showing them to people has never been easy for me." He answers, very honestly.  
  
The blonde nods her head, understanding of the angel difficulty on the subject.  
  
"Dean has offered to groom them for me." Her eyes widen, a cheerful smile across her face.  
  
"That's amazing Cas!" She chimes, "Does he realised what that means?" She questions.  
  
"I think he understands that it's a very imitate and personal thing for an angel to have their wings groomed by someone outside of family, to the extent I'm not so sure. I'm going to talk to him about it later."

"That's good. I think I'm going to show Sam my wings this week. I trust him, and it'll be nice not having to hide them _all_ the time around him you know?" Castiel nods.  
He doesn't know. He wishes he did. He'd never been able to keep his wings out, never aloud too. He'd dreamed of stretching them out to their full-wingspan, being able to relax, not having to hide them; Having the wind carding through his feathers, strengthen them enough for flight.  


 

"I'm home!" Sam announces walking through to the living room to the kitchen to grab a can a juice from the fridge, bringing one through for himself and Jess. "You ready!" He asks her, "Yeah, give me two minutes, just going to go to the bathroom."  
  
"Hello Sam." The younger brother turns to the older angel, "Hey Cas, how'd everything go?"  
  
"Very well. We talked today, not much else." He confesses.

 

 

After the young couple leave Castiel retreats to his and Deans bedroom with a book and loses his self quickly in the world of Supernatural. In this book, Jared has lost his soul and Misheal is working with the kill of hell. Castiel finds the book to be very captivating, this was the fifth or sixth book he'd read of Edlunds.  
  
When Dean gets home around nine the angel is sound asleep, book held limp in his hands. He decides to leave the angel for a while longer, heading to the kitchen to cook them a late dinner.  
Half an hour in.  
Chicken in the oven, potatoes boiling away, vegetables simmering. Castiel wakes greeted by the inviting smell and floats down to the kitchen as Dean is finishing, plating up their food.  
  
"Hey babe, was just about to come up and wake you." giving the angel a peck on the cheek as he places his plate before him.

Dinner goes well. They talk about their days. Dean tell Cas about work at the garage, about the cars he's fixing up and about this new customer who car was littered in sweet wrappers.  
"Honestly Cas! This guys car was covered in them. Every candy you could think off, guy has some sweet tooth. I expected him to be...well not as small as he was!" He laughs, and Castiel laughs with him.  
  
"Dean, I need to talk to you about the offer to groom my wings." He speaks, his tone suddenly serious.

 

 


	12. Wing Grooming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying with me. I really hope this chapter all good.   
> Honestly, I have a very faint outline of a plot in my head, mostly I have no idea what I'm going to write until I do. So this went...to an unexpected place. Hope y'all like it! :D

 

The elder Winchesters amusement stops abruptly, eyes finding the angels hastily, anxiety heavy in his stomach.   
  
"Y-yeah okay." He manages.   
  
"I'm not regretting accepting your offer, Dean." He reassures.   
"I simply need you to understand what it would mean...to me if you were too." Dean nods, relief washing over his face, softening his features.   
Relaxing his posture he places his hands on top of the table.  
  
"Wing grooming is very private, intimate. When we are young our wings are groomed by our parents or siblings, but when we grow older and find a partner they usually take over and help the angel instead. And grooming tends to take on a _different_ nature." He states, Dean nodding along.   
  
"Cas I get it...I'm okay with that." He really was.   
  
"Dean. I'm not sure what our relationship is as it stands. I know that I like you profoundly and very much want you as my partner it's not that simple." "Alright them, what makes it complicated?" Castiel sighs, "It's complicated for many reasons. When partners groom their angels wings it can be very _pleasurable_ for the angel." He says, giving Dean a deliberate look, "Oh so you might get-"   
  
"I will no doubt become aroused Dean. Like I said I'm not sure where our relationship stands and-"   


"Really, Cas I don't mind." He interrupts. In all honesty Dean had been holding back for weeks. He wanted to go further with the angel but he wasn't sure that was a line he was authorized to cross. Castiel merely nods, taking in the information, "Dean" He speaks softly placing Deans hands between his own,   
"Would you consider being my partner?" Deans eyes widen.   
  
Of course he wanted to be the angel partner. Finding words inferior he stretches over and presses his lips to the angels. It's gentle, endearing and deliberate, no urgency to it. When he pulls back seconds, maybe minutes later, they're both smiling like love stuck idiots.   
  
"Are we good then?" Dean laughs. But the angel frowns again.   
  
"Dean I'm afraid you won't like my wings." He confesses.   
  
His wings were ruined. Layers of scar tissue, broken and knotted feathers, sickening and black and- His thoughts are interrupted,   
  
"Cas, your wings are beautiful" he whispers against his lips, "Let me show you how beautiful they- you are." He corrects.   
After a short pause the angel speaks up, "Okay." Quiet, shaky.   
  
Dean coaxes Cas up from his seat and towards the bedroom, telling him to get comfortable on the bed. He does as asked, sitting with his legs in a basket facing towards to the ajar window so that he can look out at the scenery. It was reaching the beginning of winter, the trees where mostly bear sides a few leaves clinging to the branches. The temperature was dropping and they were expecting snow in the next few weeks. He and Dean should build a snow man, Jess and Sam two; Cas always wanted to build one but never had occasion too. A snow ball fight would be fun to he think.   
  
Dean back before he has the chance to change his mind about allowing Dean to groom his wings. Dean was going to _groom_ his wings. He smiles brightly with that thought being greeted by Dean with a basin of warm water and a clean wash cloth.   
  
"I'll be gentle Okay?" Castiel shrugs his shoulders, rolling the joints there and relaxes his posture and sinks deeper into the bed. He asks Dean to stand back, and tilts his head side to side working out the stiffness there. He knows they'll be here for a while considering the state of his wings.   
  
His pulls his top over his head swiftly, disregarding it on the floor. Dean takes in the angels bare back, acknowledging the older faint white scars in contrast to the newer stark red ones on his skin.   
As if magical, which Dean supposes it kind of is, a pair of colossal wings sprout from the angels back; emerging like two large braches, feathers rustling from the movement as he stretches them out towards the sides of the small sized room. As they reach full-wingspan, defined tips brushing against the walls. Dean hold his breath, taking in the sheer amount of feathers and work before him. There each at least a metre and a half each.  
  
As he walks, leisurely, towards the immense wings crowding his room he lets out the air being held in his lungs. When he reaches out and tentatively stokes his hand through the right wing Cas leans into the touch relaxing and releases a pleased sigh. Dean smiles at the reaction and slowly strokes his hand through the other wing, earning another breathless sigh.   
  
"I'm gonna just wash away the dirt and blood a bit with the cloth" He earns a hum, "Then after that you need to tell me what to do okay?" Another hum.   
  
He soaks the cloth in the warm water, ringing it, and takes the damp cloth and tenderly wipes down the right wing close to the shoulder blades where the wing joint begins. He continues like that for a while longer, before stopping,  
"Cas, do you wanna lie on your stomach? It might be comfier and it'll sure be easier for me." He offers his idea to the lethargic angel.   
  
Castiel doesn't speak but he moves his legs and swings around to press down on his stomach. Dean rinses the cloth of the blood and dirt and begins to wash underneath each feather, being sure to go slow and temperate as to not irritate any healing cuts or matted feathers. Castiel lets out a critical hiss as Dean wipes over vulnerable skin covered in deep scars, and accidently pulls apart two matted feathers as another hiss fills the room. "Sorry" He mutters.   
  
The tension leaves the angel once again as he relaxes back into the softness of the bed, letting out a drawn out sign. Dean continues to wash beneath each feather, being more cautious not to tug apart anymore matted feather, leaving them for later. When the right wing is free of blood, dirt and oil residue he moves onto the left wing and repeats the whole process.   
  
"Cas? You still awake?" The angels breathing had evened out minutes into the cleaning of the second wing.   
"MmHmm" He sounds, turning his head to the right.   
  
"I need your help now buddy." Setting the wash cloth and basin aside. He looks down at the massive wings stretched out on the bed below him and smiles at his work. They already looked healthier, clean.   
  
"Y-you have too goes through them all and pull the matted ones apart and make sure there all sitting neatly." He manages, slurring through the sentence.  
  
"Yeah, alright." Again, he starts with the right wing and the feathers closest to the shoulder blade.   
  
He shuffles a bit on the bed, turning his body towards the wings more and takes the first feather in hand cautiously carding his fingers through making sure to untangle any knots there. And he does that for every one, tentatively separating them all and arranging them neatly. With the dirt and blood gone from the feathers Dean can truly recognize the beauty of them.   
  
For Cas to say there were just.. _black_ was so far from the truth he think as he continues to groom.   
  
The feather are black, but where the lights shines mesmerizing specs of shimmering blues and turquoise greens begin to reflect in the natural oils of the feathers. Dean gasps, when a low strangled moan escapes the angel throat as his finger graze over an apparent sensitive area beneath the larger feather. When he removes his finger there's a thick oily substance coating his them.   
  
_Found the oil glands_ he thinks, as he touches the stop again gaining another approving moan from the angel.   
  
Dean feels his self growing warm, filling with pride. He uses the oil on his finger to coat each feather, reaching for more oil every few minutes, moans falling from the angel lips like a heavenly song for Deans ears. Dean hums a reply, feeling the warmth spreading through his body and downwards. He moves onto the next wing, finding the oil glands quicker this time, desperate to hear his angel moan again. When it comes, it comes out breathless and high pitched and it sends electricity straight through the humans body. Dean shifts uncomfortably in his place, his trousers feeling tighten than before. When the last feather is coated in the oil Castiel deeply sighs, ruffling them a little and smiles into the pillow.   
  
"You good?" Dean questions, hoping he's done an alright job.   
  
"'M'Good." He laughs, "That was...very pleasant." He lets outs another shaky laugh.   
He felt so high, like he was floating in the clouds and he never wanted to come down.   
  
"Okay, good. Good." Dean shakes his head.   
  
  
As Dean gathers his thoughts and lifts up from the bed, Castiel sits up and turns towards where he is and stares up at him, eyes wide and lust blown. He tilts his head down towards Dean crotch and smiles, knowing that his moan down that, pride fill his heart and he reaches out to brush his fingers over the bulge in the mans pants.   
Dean chokes down a moan, pressing forwards into the angles touch.   
  
"You don't have to Cas." He sighs, but the angel slips down of the bed and onto his knees, making sure to smirk up at the man.   
  
"I want to Dean." He speaks before he's unbuttoning, and unzipping Deans pants and pushing them slowly down his strong thighs revealing the tent in his boxer shorts.   
  
He doesn't waste any time in pushing down his boxers and wraps his hand around Deans half hard cock; slipping his thumb over his slit earning a low moan from the man looking down at him in utter awe and love.   
He pumps his hand a few times, Deans cock hardening in his hand quickly.   
Satisfied, Castiel leans forwards a places a teasing kiss to the tip, before closing his lips over it and take it into his mouth inch by inch, teasingly slow.   
  
"C-Cas" The names falls from his lips effortlessly, his heart beat beginning to race, breath becoming heavy.   
Cas hums around his dick, the vibrations causing Dean's head to fall back, eyes rolling back inside his head. His hands find Cas' hair, carding his fingers through the dark locks there.   
  
"Cas...please" He pleads, Castiel begins to bob his head up and down, his hands holding what his mouth can't reach, his other hand curling under to fondle with Deans balls. Another embarrassingly high pitched moan escapes Deans throat, as the angel hollowed out his cheeks, sucking hard.  
  
"Cas..I'm not gonna last" Bucking his hips. "Let go Dean" Castiel mumbles around him.  
  
Dean's hip begin to gently thrust, not wanting to hurt the angel, and he feels his orgasm building fast. One, two, three thrusts,   
  
"Cas..I'm gonna-" He speaks hurriedly before it hits. Castiel swallows as much as he can before pulling off with a 'pop' and sits back on his knees, feeling proud. "That was...amazing." Dean chimes, lips parted, releasing his hands from Cas' hair pulling him up and kissing him breathlessly.   


"Thank you for grooming my wings." Smiling wide.   
  
"'s no problem"

 

 


	13. Afterglows Don't Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warnings*  
> Reference to abuse and implied rape/non-con

 

"You didn't have to Dean." He breaths.   
  
"Just returning the favour." A witty grin on his face as he winks at the angel.   
  
They both laugh finding their instinctive positions on the bed; Cas tucked tightly below Deans chin and slotted against his hard chest, Deans arms protectively wrapped around the angels middle holding them together.  "Good Night" Cas slurs, curling his knees higher into his own chest, "Night Cas" They both fall asleep smiling, blissful, content. ...

 

They slept the whole morning, and when they wake around mid day they choice the luxury of their warm and homely bed to the coldness of the kitchen tiles below their feet.   
  
"I was thinking, we could go into town soon and pick you up some more clothes." Cas rotates in his arms to face Dean, "That'd be great."   
  
"Okay, well we should get up then." Lifting the covers of his self and detangling from Cas to stand from the bed.   
  
He retreats to the bathroom, brushing his teeth before coming back out to his heavy-eyed angel and risks yanking the covers of off him and their bed; the wintry air causing Castiel to yelp, goose bumps tickling down his suddenly bare arms and legs.   
  
"Come on, you know the drill! I'll get the cold water-"   
  
"I'm up, I'm up!" He leaps up from the bed at record fast speed and makes his way into the bathroom making sure to pull his best _bitchface_ on his way past.   
  
"Meet you down stairs ready to leave." Dean laughs, pulling on a pair of denims and characteristic flannel shirt before making his way down stairs where he's greeted by a scribbled note from Sam;  
  


 **** _Hey,_  
 _Stayed at Jess', sorry I didn't tell you but you were...busy. With Cas._  
 _Be home for dinner._  
  
 _Sam_

Dean chuckles, he'd forgotten about Sammy last night, too caught up. He scrunches the note in his hand and aims for the bin across the room, and launches. The paper ball hits of the side of the bin and bounces of and to the floor. He shrugs his shoulders, walking over and places it into the can before finding his shoes by the front door. He sits on the second last step tying his boots as Castiel begins to walk down towards him.   
  
He tilts his head back, resting it on the step behind him and looks up at his angel, "Hey, thought you'd be longer." He grins, "This is a new record for you." He teases, bringing his head back up and lifting his self from the step to allow Cas past to get his shoes from the wrack by the door.   
  
"We can grab breakfast in town like last time." Castiel hums his agreement and finishes putting his shoes on. They both grab their jacket since the air was getting chilly and head for the impala. Castiel goes to reach for the radio but is greeted by Dean's timeless line, "Oh!" Gently hitting his hand out of the way, "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole!" He sings, tuning the car to some classic rock station he's memorised.  
  
Castiel sinks back into his chair allowing his gaze to settle on the man at the wheel as he taps his fingers on the leather and hums along to the song seeping through the speakers. Castiel recognises the song, they'd listened to it before when Dean was trying to educate him in _'good'_ music. He smiles at the memory.   
  
Castiel is brought back reality when Deans voice hits his ears, _he's singing along!_     
Cas had never heard Dean sing before, he knew he did, but it was always to quiet to hear and the older Winchester would flush pink whenever Cas had requested a melody. Cas stays quiet, deciding not to visible react, _act subtle_ he thinks. He tunes his ear to the sound of the man's voice as he effortlessly matches the gruff voice coming through the speakers.   
  
  
_"Walk away if you want to_

_It's OK, if you need to_

_You can run, but you can never hide_

_From the shadow that's creeping up beside you_

_There's a magic running through your soul_

_But you can't have it all"_   
  


Castiel follows the words, watching the way the man sings with his whole body, as if to push the notes out. His fingers keeping a steady beat on the steering wheel as he stares at the open road.

 

_"Whatever you do_

_I'll be two steps behind you_

_Wherever you go_

_And I'll be there to remind you_

_That it only takes a minute of your precious time_

_To turn around and I'll be two steps behind"_

As guitar riffs fill the air, his voice goes quiet, "You have a lovely voice, Dean." He chimes, smiling brightly with admiration and love.   
  
"T-thank you" He blushes, pink flashing beneath the freckles on his cheeks and nose. "I don't usually sing in front of anyone." He confesses, but Castiel's smile continues to beam brightly.   
  
They reach town and park by the side of the road in an empty space, collecting their jackets from the back seats and make their way to the shops around the corner. Priorities straight, they go for their overdue breakfast; Dean gets the special, two pigs in a poke... _whatever that is?_   Cas thinks, With a side of bacon.   
Castiel goes for the Soup Of The Day, a delicious lentil with a side roll for dipping.   
  
They finish their lunch with a sweet apple pie and pouring cream between them both. They leave a generous tip for their young waiter and exit the cafe' turning left to head to the car. A short drive finds them outside their closest shopping centre, and they go directly to Primark.   
  
The clothes were cheaper than most, still stylish and not that Cas was too fussed, but he could find the style of clothing he really liked. Before he meat Dean he used to wear the same black suit most days, pairing it with his tan trench coat.   
_Boring_ he thinks now.   
But his style had changed, now he generally wore clothes similar to Deans, preferring baggy tee's to fitted shirts, and skinny jeans to black slacks. Walking through they both pile clothes into the basket, jeans, tee's, hoodies, sock...Dean even buys Cas a pair of pyjamas with little bumble bees on them and Castiel thanks him with a tasteful kiss. As they reach the checkout line Cas spots a deal on some jeans and tells Dean he'll go grab them quick.   
  
As the lines moves and Dean gets closer to the till Cas still hasn't come back. Dean begins to scan the shop finding that he can't in fact see the angel anywhere. Worry sets in, but he pushes it aside as a free till calls for the next customer, which is him. When everything is bought and placed in brown paper bags he wonders around the shop trying to find the blue-eyed angel. When his eyes find him the look on his face isn't calming.   
Looking pale white, like he's just seen a ghost.   
Dean hastily makes his way towards where the angel is frozen, and stands in front of him searching his eyes for an explanation.   
  
"You alright, Cas?"   
  
"I-I..." He stutters, shoving past Dean and swiftly out of the store. He doesn't look back to check if Dean is following him, he promptly makes his way to where there car is parked and waits for the man to catch up.  
  
"What the hell?!" Breathless, standing besides Cas, bags in either hand.   
  
When the angel walks round to the passenger's side Dean places the bags on the back seats and slides into the driver's seat, turning to look at the other.   
  
"You gonna explain what that was?" Cas still hasn't spoken, if Dean didn't know any better he'd say he'd not blinked yet either. Just frozen, face stunned and white.   
  
"Cas?" His voice is softer, quieter, worry settling deep in his gut.   
  
The angel shifts in his place, his head dropping, hands finding his hair to pull through it and settle on his face hiding the shameful tears beginning to form in his eyes. When Dean reaches out to place a kind hand on Cas' shoulder, angling him towards him, Cas lifts up his head, locking his eyes with worry-filled green ones. A single, perfect, tear slips from his eye and down his flushed cheek, and Dean doesn't think twice about placing his hands on the angels face, wiping away the teardrop with his thumb.   
  
"Tell me what wrong Cas?" He pleads.   
  
"Alastair." His reply is quiet.   
  
It takes Dean a minute to realise what Cas had just said. Instinct taking over, anger begins to build.   
  
That _name._   
  
The _nightmares.  
_  
It was nothing good.   
  
This man...Alastair..he'd caused Cas so much pain and Dean hated him with every fibre of his being and yet he still had no idea what this man had done or who, in fact, he was. Another tear falls and is quickly swept away by Deans thumb, Castiel's breath hitching, and his hands begin to shake.   
  
_Panic._  
  
His heart was filling with emotion, heavy, weighing down in his chest. He wants to speak and tell Dean what's going on but the lump in his throat traps the words he wants to speak. He tries to steady his breathing, closing his eyes and breathing in deep. But the air comes out short and fast, and his mind is going blank; so many though merging together into one messy lump.  
"Cas?" He asks urgently, "Come on, breath with me." He speaks slow and calm, taking the angels hands in his own.   
  
1,2,3,4 he counts. Getting the angel to breath in.   
  
4,3,2,1 he counts. The angel releases the air from his lungs, anxiety falling away with each elongated breath.

The stay like that, breathing, in and out, for a long time in calming silence, Deans thumb finding a rhythm in tracing a soft pattern on Cas' hand. They don't speak again until they pull up outside the house. Deans grabs the bags and follows behind Cas as he enters the house and go directly to their bedroom. Dean toes of his shoes and makes his way to their bedroom a few minutes later hoping to gain some answers from Cas. Dean doesn't need to ask anything as he walks into the room and places the bags by the bed, as Cas speaks up first.   
  
"I saw him." He states, emotionless.   
  
"What'd you mean?"   
  
"In the shop, I saw him walking by. I don't think he saw me but...Alastair is in town." Deans whole body goes tense, shoulder locking,   
  
"Who is he Cas?" Maybe Cas will tell him, this time.  
  
"Dean" He voice breaks, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. When he's met with confused and hurt eyes he reconsiders and tells him, "He's a family friend." That what he was after all. When Castiel was cast out, abandoned by his own, it had been Alastair's fault. They had chosen his side over Cas'.   
  
"Come on man, you've gotta give me more than that?" He pleads.   
  
  
_I can trust Dean._

_Tell him.  
_

__  
He reassures his self and pats the bed besides where he sits and Dean sits down in front of him, one leg on the bed, the other hanging of the side.  
  
"He's the reason...or the last strike you could say that got be flung out onto the street. My family had always...disliked me. They hated my wings, made me hide them." Dean listen, quietly and patient. Castiel breath in another deep breath, letting it go slowly before continuing, "We used to have family dinner nights every Sunday, and sometimes Alastair would join us as well. I hate him!" He speaks harshly, spitting the name. "I hate him so much, Dean!" He cries.   
  
"When I was 15 I went up to my room to finish my homework for the next day. They were all down stairs drinking, laughing. But...But he came up stairs. Into my room." His voice so quiet and weak as the words leave his lips. Dean watched him carefully, trying to figure out where Cas is going with this. His mind going to conclusions he doesn't want to go to- doesn't want to be true.

"Cas what are you saying?" Afraid of the answer.   
  
"He hurt me Dean. I tried to fight, I did! But he just...he was too strong!" He begs Dean to believe him, "It wasn't my fault! it wasn't..." Trying to convince himself more than anyone else.   
  
"Cas. Cas I believe you." Wrapping his arms around the shaky mess the angel had become. "I believe you." He cries, tears dropping from his eyes as he hold the angel close.  
  
"Okay." He speaks, pulling away, "How about I go make us some hot cocoa and we cuddle for a bit? You can talk if you want to or we can just go to sleep." He offers.

 

...  
  
  
  
"I put little marsh mallows in them." Trying a cheerful smile.  
  
"Thank you, Dean. You always know how to look after me." He matches his smile.  
  
They cuddle up beneath the covers, mugs on the tables beside their bed, finding relief in each other arms.   
  
"What am I going to do Dean?" Breaking the silence between them. "I don't want to see him again." He confesses, "What if he hurts me...again."   
  
"I won't let him. I won't let him hurt you again." No one would hurt his angel, ever again. He'd been through enough already, and Dean didn't understand where all the hate came from.   
  
"Do you think that...that you'd go to the police?" Dean tries.  
  
Of course he wanted Cas to do that.   
That bastard should be locked away for the rest of his damn life! S  
ick son of a bitch he is.   
  
Castiel thinks on what Deans has said.   
  
"I-I....yes." He settles on. "I don't want him to hurt anyone else Dean." He states.   
  
Alastair was a horrible human being, Castiel may not have been the first or last, and the thought of another being hurt was enough to push Cas to say yes. "Okay, we'll take our time, work up to it. But we should go down to the station this week." He tighten his arms around the angel, "Sheriff Mills is a friend of the family, she's lovely and will help you, alright?"   
  
"Okay, Dean. I trust you." __  
  



End file.
